Astray
by Melusina
Summary: The ultimate answer to the question whether Snape is straight or gay: he is both. But he's not bi. Must be magic - but it's not. PLEASE REVIEW. STORY NOW COMPLETE!
1. Transition

Title: Astray  
  
By: Melusina  
  
Category: angst  
  
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
  
Notes: Many thanks again to my beta Mairi. She checked this story for me. If you find any remaining blunders, blame me for them...  
  
Summary The ultimate answer to the question whether Snape is straight or gay: he is both. But he's not bi. Must be magic - but it's not.  
  
Astray  
  
Part One - Transition  
  
It was a bright, sunny and beautiful day when Michael Carey walked the long path along Loch Ossian. His big, black dog ran around him and was almost continually half a mile ahead of him. Michael walked in a brisk pace and thoroughly enjoyed his surroundings. He rarely came this far. The land around Loch Ossian was somehow covered in darkness. Legend had it that there were ghosts around the shores. Michael didn't believe this, but he always felt the somewhat gloomy atmosphere around there. But the lake itself was lovely. Usually when he got closer to it, Michael was reminded of the warm comfort at home and started to long for a hot cup of chocolate.  
  
But not so today. He was too upset to mind the gloominess of the atmosphere. He wanted to have this lonely exercise to think. In the last two years after the death of his wife, he had somehow got used to the loneliness. His job as a veterinarian assured him of daily contact with the local farmers, and he often enjoyed their warm hospitality. But it wasn't enough. The nightmares that had started about two years ago increasingly haunted his dreams. The most disturbing thing was their apparent inner coherency. Often, the same people returned in it, names were screamed; men, women and children were slaughtered in a mysterious manner. And everything seemed to be covered with darkness and despair.  
  
At first, Michael had thought that these dreams were his way of dealing with his wife's death, but he was no longer very sure of that. He would still have shrugged it off, but now he began to dream almost twice or thrice a week. He wanted to find if there were more recurring elements in it, that might give him a clue what it was all about.  
  
For a long time he walked along the shores of the lake. It was as if his surroundings gradually adapted themselves to his memories. Although the sun still shone and the weather was as bright as ever, he shivered. He was forcibly reminded of the warm comfortableness of his own home. He suddenly recalled that he had a letter to his sister left unfinished on his desk. Since it was far too long that he had been writing to her anyway, he suddenly felt so guilty, that he had almost turned around to go home.  
  
Once or twice he thought he saw some movement out of the corner of his eye, a man or a large animal moving. But when he turned his head, there was nothing. Once he thought he saw a movement in the water, as if a very large fish had stuck its head out. Yet the water seemed very still. But he was determined to go on and his dog, Jack, seemed to be unaware of anything unusual. He knew he would not easily reach the decision to systematically go through his dreams again. Looking up, he saw the old ruin at the far end of the lake. He had come quite close to it. He decided to climb it and to sit down on the top of it to think.  
  
As he walked on, he slowly became confused. It was as if the air in front of him was moving. As if it was very hot. Michael blinked, not quite believing what he saw in front of him. The ruin seemed to change slightly, appearing larger than Michael had thought it would be. Hesitatingly he went on. The dust under his feet seemed to take strange, indefinable forms. It was as if a visible wind was surrounding him for a moment. For a moment he was threatened to be overtaken by blind panic, visited by unfamiliar but haunting figures. Creatures fit to haunt his nightmares dancing in front of his eyes. Then he blinked again and the world around him changed entirely.  
  
He shook his head, feeling dizzy for a moment, not believing what was in front of him. A large castle with an innumerable number of towers and lots and lots of windows was standing near the lake. A large gateway, made of black iron, appeared in front of him, preventing his moving on. With a slightly shaking hand, he pushed against it, and it opened.  
  
He moved on and rubbed his eyes to be certain that he wasn't dreaming again. The strangest thing was that the castle didn't look unfamiliar, although he was sure he had never seen it before. Shaking and a bit dizzy he went on until the sound of a voice startled him. 


	2. The Castle

Title: Astray  
  
By: Melusina  
  
Category: angst  
  
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
  
Notes: Many thanks again to my beta Mairi. She checked this story for me. If you find any remaining blunders, blame me for them...  
  
Summary The ultimate answer to the question whether Snape is straight or gay: he is both. But he's not bi. Must be magic - but it's not.  
  
Part Two - The Castle  
  
"There you are, pr'fessor. Are ye all right?"  
  
The booming voice startled him so much, that he unconsciously stepped back and for a moment had trouble to regain his equilibrium. A giant man was standing a few yards away from him, looking at him worriedly.  
  
Michael stared at him. Again not sure whether he was awake or dreaming. Jack had no such troubles. He ran up to the man and danced around him, barking enthusiastically. The big man grinned at him and said, "Well, Sirius, it's good to see you back again. Never thought ye would be accompanying Pr'fessor Snape, though." And he stroked the head of the animal for a moment. Then he looked up again and asked worriedly, "Something the matter with ye, Pr'fessor?" and laid his big hand on Michaels arm.  
  
In a reflex Michael drew his arm back and said, "No, there is nothing wrong with me. What is this? Where do you come from?"  
  
The giant's frown deepened. "Well, ye don't seem like y'rself, Pr'fessor. Do ye need something before ye go to Pr'fessor Dumbledore?"  
  
Michael stared at him uncomprehendingly. "Why should I go to him?"  
  
The giant sighed. "Of course, Pr'fessor, I understand that it is all secret. Never mind. I won't tell a soul."  
  
Michael dimly understood that the man was taking him for somebody else.  
  
"I am not who you think you are," he said abruptly.  
  
The giant's frown deepened when he looked at Michael, but he nodded. "Of course, Pr'fessor, always thought that there was more about ye than ev'rybody always says. But I'm worried about ye, Pr'fessor. Won't ye go to Pr'fessor Dumbledore?"  
  
"I'm fine," Michael snapped. "You don't understand. I'm not who you think I am! You mistake me for somebody else!"  
  
The giant gave him a very hard look, then suddenly his brow cleared and he took a quick look around him. "I see. Don't worry, now. I won't tell a soul."  
  
Michael stared at him, unsure what to do. He wasn't sure what to make of this giant, didn't want to make him angry. And he started to be rather curious what it was all about.  
  
"Very well, I'll go and see the professor. Where do I find him?"  
  
"Ye'll find him in 'is office, Pr'fessor. Password's changed though, since last time. It's wing bats now."  
  
Michael wasn't sure whether he was in a dream or not, but he walked in the direction of the castle. When he reached the great entrance, the doors opened and he faced an older lady, with green robes and a pointed hat.  
  
"Severus," she exclaimed. "There you are finally. We were worried about you. But what are you doing in those clothes?"  
  
For a moment Michael stared at her, but there was no sign that she was making a joke or that she was anything other than sincere. It was also obvious that she was waiting for an answer. He remembered what the giant had said.  
  
"I ... I... ehm, I really cannot tell you, I'm sorry about that. It is a secret."  
  
He was strangely afraid that she would ask him questions that he couldn't answer, but instead she seemed to be deeply worried by his reply.  
  
She studied him carefully and then asked in an entirely different voice, "Severus, is everything all right with you? I've never seen you quite like this before."  
  
Michael didn't have a clue how to answer this, so he remained silent.  
  
This didn't seem to surprise the woman overly much, though. She just sighed and said. "Very well, I will accompany you to Albus. I was just on my way to him myself." And with a quick look at the dog "I'm relieved to see Sirius as well." Michael didn't understand this last expression, but didn't say anything. He couldn't for the life of him think what he might have said.  
  
They both walked swiftly through the castle. Michael was very grateful about this, as he seemed to have entered a labyrinth. He looked left and right around him, but tried not to be too obvious about it. Everywhere around him there was colour and movement and for some reason, the ceiling seemed to be the open sky, indoors though he was.  
  
He was startled when the woman suddenly stopped walking in front of some sort of sculpture. "Wing bats," she crisply said.  
  
Michael nearly jumped back when the sculpture started to rotate and revealed a stairway. He joined the woman, however, when she got up to it and wondered where he was going. His question was answered very quickly when he entered a circular room, filled with all the strangest objects. A very old man appeared and held out his hands, exclaiming, "Ah, Severus, I am very happy to have you back, my boy. And Sirius too! Thank you for bringing them up to me, Minerva."  
  
"Yes, well, Headmaster, I just came by to tell you that there is a satisfactory message from Kingsley Shacklebolt. An owl just arrived."  
  
"Thank you, Minerva, I'm relieved to hear it. Now, if you would please leave Severus and me alone? I'm sure you still are very busy," he said, smiling at her.  
  
"Certainly, Headmaster," she answered, and left the room.  
  
When left alone with the old man, Michael felt acutely uncomfortable. The old man seemed to be very friendly, and Michael felt utterly and completely out of place.  
  
"Sir, I'm sorry, this... this is not what you think it is. I'm not who you think I am. I ... I don't know what happened, I... everybody seems to think that I..."  
  
Dumbledore looked at him and the twinkle in his eyes, that had been there all the time, vanished to make way for some concern.  
  
"Severus, my boy, are you sure that you are alright?"  
  
"No! That is - you don't understand! I'm not this man that you are talking about. I'm somebody else! I..."  
  
Dumbledore put his hand on his shoulder in a very comforting way.  
  
"You know, Severus, I am nearly glad to hear it. You have been so imprisoned and caged in all these feelings of guilt and pain, my boy. Even if this causes you discomfort, I am very glad to see that you are finally getting rid of them. Don't be afraid, child. You are quite safe in here."  
  
Jack, who had been idly walking around the room, sniffing his way around, apparently dangerously fascinated by the cage of a bird, chose this moment to pad towards Michael again to raise his big head and lick Michael's hand. Dumbledore saw it and sharply looked at Michael again. The twinkle reappeared in his eye. "Ah, how rude of me, Sirius. Of course you may transform, if you wish," politely addressing the dog.  
  
Nothing happened, of course. Michael stared at the man as if he had gone mad. "But sir, you don't understand. I don't belong in here. I don't understand I stumbled upon this place. This different from any place I have ever been before. I..."  
  
Dumbledore looked a moment as if he was suppressing a smile. He looked from Michael to his dog and back again. Michael didn't know what he was thinking, but he found the look maddening. He stroked Jack's head again. The old professor followed his hand with apparently amused eyes.  
  
But after a moment, Dumbledore sighed. "I understand how hard this must be for you, Severus. And how confused you must be. What I want to know is, if there is something else that's bothering you." Here, Dumbledore looked at Michael very closely and intensely. "What happened at the latest gathering, Severus? Have you been put under any form of torture?"  
  
Michael stared at Dumbledore, unable to answer immediately. The thoughts raced through his head. It was clear that everybody took him for somebody else, someone called Snape, or so. A professor, apparently. It wasn't all a very elaborate joke. The tone of the people was far too serious for that. His double, Snape, must have been on his way to something dangerous, or else these people wouldn't have reacted in such a way. He asked himself what that could be. The concern of the woman, Minerva, and Professor Dumbledore seemed sincere. Snape might well be in danger, then. He didn't know what he could do. Apart from that, he was very curious. He couldn't for the life of him imagine, what kind of a place this was, and he started to wish for some more. While these thoughts chased through his head, it was clear that Dumbledore was waiting for an answer.  
  
"Well," he said hesitatingly, "no, I was not."  
  
Dumbledore sighed relieved. "Any particulars that I need to know about?"  
  
Michael stared at him again, unsure how to answer. "Anything in particular that you want to know about?" he asked, carefully.  
  
"Any new plans made?" Dumbledore grimly asked.  
  
Michael began to feel guilty again. "Not that I am aware of."  
  
"What about the Lestranges?"  
  
Michael started again. The Lestranges. That was one of the names that haunted his dreams frequently as of late. He had dreamt about them last time. Could it be that...?  
  
He tried to recall what the dream had been about. A burning house, something green in the air, screaming, a name, Peter, and a young girl, a child, running away with burning hair.  
  
He shuddered, remembering it, and Dumbledore saw it immediately.  
  
"What?" he sharply asked.  
  
"There was something with a house. It was put on fire. I think everybody in it died, except for one small girl... I'm sorry. It was all very unclear..."  
  
For some reason Dumbledore seemed to worried about him again, but he only said, "Must have been the Doolittles then. Poor people."  
  
Michael didn't know anything to say to that so he kept silent. After a while Dumbledore seemed to shake himself out of his reflection and said, "Well, Severus, if you are sure there is nothing wrong with you, perhaps you should go to your quarters. You cannot walk through the castle in muggle clothes, you know," he chuckled. Michael only stared at him. "Muggles," he thought.  
  
He turned around to walk at the door, wondering how he was supposed to find the rooms of his double.  
  
Dumbledore stared after him dumbstruck. Severus had made a very strange impression. As if he was absentminded, or hurt in more ways then he cared to admit to his employer. Knowing him very well, Dumbledore had known that it would be useless to get more out of him in that respect, but still the man's behaviour perplexed him. But Severus seemed to think nothing about walking through the castle dressed as he was. His relationship with Sirius Black seemed to have changed fundamentally as well. In fact, he would never have thought it possible for the two of them to interact as he had seen them do just a minute ago. Well, he supposed it was a good thing if one could still be surprised. He had a small chuckle in himself, imagining what more might be changing. But it would of course be courting disaster if Severus were allowed to walk around the castle looking like this. So Dumbledore called out after the leaving man, "Eh, Severus, one moment, please," and waved his wand to replace the muggle clothes with the other man's usual robes.  
  
Severus turned around and glared at him, and Dumbledore sighed. But he was too much used to his employee's difficult mood to attach too much importance to Severus' glowering. He knew that transfiguration was by far the man's weakest subject, but that the other wizard hated it to have this pointed out to him. So he just wished him a peaceful day and waited for the other man to leave. 


	3. The Dungeons

Title: Astray  
  
By: Melusina  
  
Category: angst  
  
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
  
Notes: Many thanks again to my beta Mairi. She checked this story for me. If you find any remaining blunders, blame me for them...  
  
Summary The ultimate answer to the question whether Snape is straight or gay: he is both. But he's not bi. Must be magic - but it's not.  
  
Part Three - The Dungeons  
  
Michael's mind was reeling by the time he left Dumbledore's office. He knew that he was either in the middle of a weird dream, or that the world had turned over. Or he had just officially lost his mind. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't pay much attention to where he was going, thus encountering a group of students who had just left a classroom. The excited chattering fell immediately silent and the group parted to let him through. Michael blinked, but decided that students probably knew better where he was supposed to go than he, so he blindly went into the direction they unconsciously indicated. The expression on his face must have been very odd though, for they seemed to look at him with frightful confusion.  
  
He went through the passage and when he came to a stairway, he descended it, being unable to find a reason not to. Thus he came to the lower regions of the castle, which seemed to form a labyrinth of their own. Just when he started to ask himself if he was ever hoping to find some way back again, he saw a very fair boy, leaning against a wooden door.  
  
"There you are, professor, I hoped I would find you in your office, but you weren't there, so I decided to wait for you."  
  
Michael walked up to the door with all the air of a man who knows his place in life. When he touched the door, it opened. The boy looked at him confused. "Did you spell it to your touch, professor?"  
  
As Michael didn't know how to answer that, he only frowned upon the boy, which seemed to be enough of an answer. He walked past the door and entered the room. He had difficulty to keep his gasp to himself. He seemed to have entered an alchemist's laboratory. Jars were standing everywhere and in the middle a desk stood, covered with parchment in the best tradition of Nostradamus.  
  
For a moment he stood very still. Then he remembered his audience and turned towards the boy. "What can I do for you?" he asked.  
  
The boy looked at him, apparently puzzled.  
  
"My father sent me, sir, asking whether you have some more of that potion."  
  
"Which potion?" Michael asked, despite himself.  
  
The boy threw him another glance. "I don't know the name, sir. The soul- compelling one."  
  
Michael stomach clenched at these words. "No, I have not. Now leave."  
  
The boy speedily left the room.  
  
When he had left the room, Michael took a closer look at the room he was standing in. He blinked several times, but the image remained just the same. Cupboards lining the walls. Jars on the shelves, thousands of them. Filled with - Michael took a step in their direction. He stepped back almost immediately. Loathing stuff. Dead things. Nauseating. Remembered him of the anatomical museum at the University of Edinburgh, where he had studied.  
  
Suddenly he noticed that that his legs were giving way under him. He made it to the nearest chair and fell on it. He needed some time to think.  
  
What had happened to him? When the world hadn't turned over and when he wasn't dreaming - a pinch in his arm assured him of that - and when his mind wasn't reeling, then these people were serious. They were taking him for someone else. Professor Snape, apparently. And if he wasn't mistaken, he was sitting in his double's office right now.  
  
For a while he just sat on the chair, doing nothing. Trying to get in what had happened to him. He knew that he hadn't got mad in the space of one afternoon. He couldn't believe he had walked in so elaborate a trap. It had to be real in some way. Memories of childhood stories came flooding into his mind. Of strange happenings around the lake. People appearing and disappearing. Smoke, the sound of a train sometimes in the middle of the night. Strange behaviour of animals. People who sometimes disappeared and then reappeared a few days later, confused, unable to tell what had happened to them. A strange smell, strange animals, unexplained movements in the lake. The locals had their own theories about what happened and wisely kept away from it. Michael now started to ask himself what of all of this was true.  
  
He undoubtedly found himself in a large building of great antiquity. The people in it seemed to live some life outside the real world, but a complete life in itself. Apparently this was a school, and his double was a professor. What would he be teaching? Biology perhaps, judging from the jars on the shelves.  
  
But there was far more, and he knew it, although it took some time before he could acknowledge it to himself. The way the sculpture came alive. All the movements in this castle. The ceiling of the hall, the way Dumbledore replaced his clothes. Michael knew that there was no way he could be mistaken. The man had used some kind of magic. Did that mean that he was in a magical place? Was his double a magician? The longer he thought about it, the longer this thought chilled him. Where exactly was he? What exactly were these people? On the other hand, everybody he had met so far seemed to be a good sort of people. People he didn't mistrust.  
  
For the first time he took a look at the clothes that Dumbledore had given him. They were pitch-black, and strangely old-fashioned. Michael felt like a priest, but at least they kept him comfortably warm.  
  
Michael now felt slightly guilty that he was intruding in someone else's rooms, fascinating though it was. He knew that he hadn't really tried to convince the people that they were mistaken about him. He must go back to Professor Dumbledore and confess. And then leave. He sighed, slightly sorry that he would have to go. This place really was fascinating. Perhaps he would be allowed to stay for a while, to look around.  
  
He came up again and took a last look around him. That was when he saw the envelope on the desk of his double. Curiously he took it and turned it around. Slowly, letters in a beautiful and dignified hand, not unlike his own, appeared on the front of the envelope. To Albus Dumbledore.  
  
Strange, he thought. Why wouldn't his double have given it to Dumbledore himself, when they lived in the same place? As he turned the letter around in hid hands, he saw that the seal didn't close the letter completely, as if they writer had not taken care in sealing it. A burning curiosity got the better of Michael. He couldn't wait to discover what would be in the letter of a man who lived in such a place. He opened it.  
  
Albus,  
  
(The letter read, shortly and abruptly,)  
  
Upon the instance of my demise, please take care that all documents left in the lower part of my closed drawer be destroyed. The codeword to the secret vault at Gringott's is misdemeanour. It contains the potions we have agreed upon. Please dispose of Snape manor and all possessions left in this room in any manner that you see fit.  
  
S.S.  
  
Michael's mind reeled. Upon the instance of my demise. What was the man talking about? What was going on? Codeword? Potions? The coldness of the note chilled him to the bone. The faces of Dumbledore, the woman called Minerva and the giant flittered in front of his eyes. They had had friendly faces. Not smiling perhaps, but good and friendly. How was it possible that such an awful, ice-cold note could be addressed to Dumbledore? What kind of a man was his double? What was going on in this place? Was his double in danger? In complete confusion he looked around him, vaguely trying to find more clues.  
  
For the first time he noted that the room seemed in to be extreme order. Nothing lying out of place. Everything ordered carefully and at the right place. Had the inhabitant had taken the trouble to clean his rooms before he left?  
  
Not caring any longer he reached for the drawer and opened it. Everything seemed to be in order here as well. A small notebook was lying on top of a stack of various papers. He opened it. It contained lists of names, numbers, and times. He couldn't make much of it at first sight and randomly leafed through it.  
  
Suddenly a name jumped to his eye. Lestrange. Bellatrix Lestrange. Again that name, he thought. How is it possible? He carefully read everything on the page, but it didn't make sense. Apparition directions? Numbers? Arithmetic's? Dates? Thirteen minutes of Cruciatus? He leafed on. More names, apparently. Malfoy, Doolittle, Rosier. It didn't make sense. But he thought the book might be of importance.  
  
It would probably be best if he brought the notebook and the letter to Dumbledore. For some reason, though, he hesitated.  
  
The castle was far more than it appeared to be at first sight. There were some heavy undercurrents around here. For the first time, Michael remembered the boy that had been waiting outside. What had he been asking for? Soul-compelling potions? What invention of hell might that be?  
  
Would he be justified in not going to Dumbledore? It was very well possible that his double was in serious trouble. It could be a mistake not to warn everybody that he hadn't returned. On the other hand some if these things definitely had to do with his dreams. The answers to all riddles were clearly hidden in this castle. What a chance to find out more!  
  
A shudder went through Michael as he realised that he wanted to pull this through. He couldn't imagine that the people in the castle wouldn't find him out very quickly. But in the meantime he would have the chance the find out some more. And if it was going to be a problem, he could always confess, couldn't he? As if he felt what was going on, Jack, who until then had been very quiet, padded up to him and licked his hand again. Resolutely putting all kinds of lingering doubt out of his mind, Michael sat down and went through the office systematically.  
  
An hour and a half later, his mind reeled. What had he got himself into? More than once he had been on the point of stopping, ashamed that he was going through somebody else's private things. But a feeling of restlessness, of unease and a burning curiosity drove him on.  
  
He had been right that his double was a teacher. Lesson plans, lists of the marks of the students, notes on the progress of classes and a detailed oversight of ingredients used in the classes made this abundantly plain. The man taught potions and seemed to be in need of the most exotic ingredients. He must have a full-time job, if Michael could judge the number of students correctly. From what he could gather, the students seemed to be divided in four groups, each with a different, strange name. Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor? Well, he thought, he would figure it out soon enough. Apart from that, they seemed to be divided in seven years. After a while, Michael found the logbook his double seemed to keep on the various classes and looked into them. He thoroughly enjoyed the sarcastic comment the teacher had on them, although he would have been shocked if his teachers had used such language on him.  
  
The man seemed to be an optimist by nature, judging from the comment on individual students, and the number of times the word 'moron' was used to describe incidents and students.  
  
Professor Snape hadn't expected to return, Michael thought, when he found the letter that was addressed to his successor. Although - a letter - it was just a practical and very detailed account on the progress of the classes and remarks on various individual students. The best and the weakest. Michael studied these notes carefully and with a pounding heart. Was he really going to take his double's place? What made him do such a thing? But in his heart he knew that he was far too much involved not to do it. He couldn't stop just now. He wanted to know what was coming.  
  
He walked around in the rooms, but there wasn't much more that helped him on. No personal possessions. He also found the door to what seemed to be the man's private rooms. These were painfully orderly as well. There were no pictures on the walls, apparently no personal possessions, nothing that said anything about their owner's personality. Michael went on and found another door, this one leading from the office into a classroom. The potions classroom, obviously. This room was in a perfect state as well. Clean. Nothing out of order. Everything at the right place. 


	4. Remus Lupin

Title: Astray  
  
By: Melusina  
  
Email: Melusina Mayne   
  
Rated: R - NC 17  
  
Category: angst  
  
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
  
Notes: Many thanks again to my beta Mairi. She checked this story for me. If you find any remaining blunders, blame me for them...  
  
Summary The ultimate answer to the question whether Snape is straight or gay: he is both. But he's not bi. Must be magic - but it's not.  
  
Part Four - Remus Lupin  
  
It had been quite some time since Michael had entered the office, and he started to feel very hungry. Again he was sorry about his stupid decision and almost decided to go to Dumbledore and tell him the truth.  
  
But just at that moment a very odd creature entered the room with a slight plop. Michael stared at it, not believing his eyes, unable to say a word.  
  
"Professor Dumbledore wants Professor to come up for dinner, Professor sir. Professor Dumbledore sends Dobby to call Professor Snape."  
  
Michael stared and stared at the creature and then decided that it was too much. His mind simply refused to even try and make any kind of sense out of it. So he just nodded and followed the creature outside. Jack walked after; apparently glad to leave the office.  
  
Michael prepared to simply follow the tiny creature and thus was unpleasantly surprised when it disappeared into thin air with a slight plop. Bewildered, he looked around him, asking himself whether he would ever find the way to the main hall back again. Jack seemed to have more pathfinding instincts, for he immediately set off in one direction. Michael simply followed him. To be lead into the great hall straight away.  
  
Entering it, he immediately caught the smell of loads of good food, and his stomach rumbled, unpleasantly reminding him of the fact that lunch had been hours ago. There were considerably more people in it then before. Four long tables were set up and hundreds of students were sitting, eating and producing an enormous noise. At the far end of the hall, a single table was standing higher. All the teachers seemed to be sitting there. As he walked through the lines of students, Michael could feel many eyes resting on him, quickly turning away as he caught the eye of the students. From the head table he seemed to be observed as well. Sweat broke out on him, and he was convinced that everybody looked right through his appearance. He walked up to the head table and took the only empty seat left.  
  
The teachers all looked up when he sat down and some nodded at him. Most just continued their dinner. Jack padded up to him and sat down next to his chair. When he sat down, the man next to him looked up. He looked at Severus, at Jack, and then back up at Michael again. He seemed to be on the point of saying something to Michael, but apparently changed his mind and stayed silent.  
  
Michael helped himself to his dinner and tried not to look as obvious as he felt. Fortunately, no conversation seemed to be expected of him. All the way through dinner he kept on giving Jack pieces of his dinner. Jack obviously deeply appreciated this and pushed his nose into Michael's hand, affectionately begging for more. Michael smiled in spite of himself and gave him a few choice pieces of the meat on his plate. The eyes of the man next to him seemed to be falling out on this point. Still, he said nothing. But he offered Jack some of his plate, as well.  
  
As he ate, Michael let his eyes sweep through the hall, intrigued by what he saw in front of him. Hundreds of students who were producing a resounding noise while digging into their dinner. No longer feeling as obvious as at the start of dinner, he took his time enjoying what he saw. Apparently the students were very skilled in acting exactly when their teachers weren't looking at them.  
  
Negligently, he allowed his hand to stroke Jack's fur. This, however, seemed to draw his neighbour's attention once more. The man laid down his fork and half turned towards Michael. He looked as if he was going to say something, but apparently thought the better of it once more. Michael lifted an eyebrow, not understanding, wondering whether he had missed something, but the man turned away and said nothing. Soon after that, he rose from his diner and exited the hall through a door Michael hadn't seen before. Michael stared after him, but decided that he simply couldn't come close to understanding what was happening here.  
  
A slightly older woman, who had been sitting at the man's other side, frowned and asked "What's wrong with Remus, tonight? I have never seen him so on edge."  
  
As Michael didn't have any idea how to answer this, he chose to ignore the remark. Again, this didn't seem to overly surprise the woman. When she didn't receive an answer, she just sighed and went back to her diner.  
  
After dinner, Michael went back to his double's quarters, trying to think of what he must do next. Once again he went through his double's desk, more emboldened than the first time. He now closely studied the other's timetable. The next day would be a Thursday. The man seemed to have 4 classes. 1 R/H, 3 S/G, 7 S/G and 2 R/H. Whatever that might mean. Perhaps they were abbreviations of those strange terms. Ravenclaw, Hufflepuf, Lionheart, whatever.  
  
Now, what was he going to do with them? Searching further in his double's desk, he found the textbooks. As he found only one book for each year, he assumed that his double had no more. Combining the book with the detailed lesson plans, he easily found out what the classes were supposed to do the next day. Shrinking solution for the first years, cleaning draught for the second years, vanishing solution for the third years and transformatur potion for the fifth years. Wonderful. It would have been great if he had any idea what these "things" might entail.  
  
Studying the textbooks didn't help much. He could imagine something at the description of "stirring techniques" and thought he might bluff his way through dicing diagonally. But what about a semi-permanent heating charm, to be applied while adding ingredients simultaneously? What about transforming the ladle from tin to silver at the critical moment of transformation within the potion? Somehow he didn't think he could manage that.  
  
Again, he was strongly tempted to lay down the textbooks, go upstairs and confess everything to Professor Dumbledore. But he was too utterly fascinated with all these mad things. He just couldn't bear the thought of stopping now. Out of sheer curiosity, he went on. After all, what could happen? The worst of it was that he might be found out. And all these people seemed to be nice enough.  
  
That said - he did have to think about the attitude of all these people. A lot of them - especially the students, but a fair lot of the teachers as well, seemed to react to every change of his facial muscles. And the reaction was almost always a shrinking away. Or a weary sigh. Or both. The most curious reaction, however, was when he did his best to be friendly. What did he do wrong? He couldn't imagine what it was and idly asked himself what kind of a man his double was.  
  
Apart from that, but he still had to think of a way to get around this stuff. In whatever way. There was no way he could fake all these charms. After all had had seen in the castle, he didn't think he could fool these people in any way. So what did he have to do?  
  
Sitting back, he pondered the question. He very quickly found the answer. He didn't think there was any way for him to have the students do these experiments. That left two possibilities. He could have them make something that didn't involve unmanageable charms, some very common salve, or something like that, or he had them simply study their books. Not the most exciting lesson, of course, but probably safer.  
  
He didn't think his first option was possible, as he hadn't any idea how to get the ingredients he needed, apart from having no idea of his double's style of teaching, so that left the second. Plain studying. Michael looked at the textbooks again, and mentally selected a part that he thought would suffice for the students. He prepared what he was going to say to them as best as he could, and then sat back in his chair, suddenly unable to believe that he had really landed in this madness. But the whole thing was intoxicating and he felt more alive then he had felt in years. It was unthinkable to stop it now.  
  
Having thought that now, he thought he might as well take a look at his double's storage, that he had already seen that afternoon. He now had a far better idea of what he needed, so he wanted to know what his double could use in his classes. He was just going through some awful-smelling liquids, when he heard a knock at the door.  
  
It was his neighbour at dinner, Remus. "May I come in, please?"  
  
Michael stared at him surprised and worried, but stepped aside to allow entrance. He searched Remus' face, afraid of what the other was going to say. He couldn't think of something to say himself, so he just waited.  
  
"I... I just wanted to tell you that I am very happy to see you back at Hogwarts alive and in good health, Severus," Remus finally said. "I have been very worried about you. You were expected back Saturday two weeks ago. We thought you might have died."  
  
Michael couldn't find anything to say. A feeling of guilt washed over him and the words stuck in his throat. He didn't have any right to be here. It was shameless. At the same time, he was vaguely glad that someone did seem to care about Snape's welfare. He didn't get the impression that the man was overly popular.  
  
Remus looked at him, apparently waiting for an answer, but for the life of him Michael didn't know what to say.  
  
Slowly, Remus walked closer to him. Hesitatingly, he laid a hand on Michael's arm. Michael didn't draw it back. He felt paralysed.  
  
"Severus," Remus softly said. "I am sorry if I am disturbing you in any way. But I thought that we might finally put all that's happened in the past behind us. Severus, I just don't feel like going over all the history any more. I have been worried far too much about you in the past few days for that anymore. Can we not start all over?"  
  
Michael still felt caged and trapped, but he knew he had to say something to answer this. It was impossible to stay silent at this point. He had to end this. He was ashamed enough of himself as it was. Gathering all his courage he said, "There is something I need to tell you. I am not who you think I am. This all a mistake.... I cannot go on with this, I..."  
  
Remus waited, but Michael couldn't go on. He didn't dare. Silently, he begged Remus to understand.  
  
The tension seemed to leave Remus a bit, although he seemed to be worried at hearing this speech. "I understand that you have been through a lot, Severus. Lately, the world around us seems to have fallen apart once more. Never mind. I understand."  
  
He was silent once more, but kept his hand where it was. On Michael's arm.  
  
"No, no, you don't understand. I cannot go on with this. I am not the one you think I am. I cannot imagine how I landed in this mess. The whole world seems to have changed. I don't understand it. You see, I was walking along the shores of the lake. I was trying to make sense of all the dreams I have had lately. And then all of a sudden the world seemed to change. A giant called me. He..."  
  
"A giant? Remus interrupted him. Are you trying to tell me that the dark lord now has the help of the giants? I thought that Hagrid had made progress with them? Are you still having those dreams? I thought you were taking a potion?"  
  
Michael's mind reeled once more, but took up the one piece he understood. "You don't understand what I am trying to tell you. I am not the one you think I am. I'm very sorry to have misled you. I just walked by, and then suddenly the whole world around me changed. Everybody thinks I am somebody I'm not. But it is a mistake."  
  
Remus' expression changed once more. "Sev, are you sure you are alright? Did the dark lord torture you?"  
  
"No! I keep telling you! I'm not the person you think I am! Everybody here seems to think I am Severus Snape, but I am not. How can I make you understand?"  
  
Remus looked at him, the worry clouding his eyes. "You don't have to. I do understand. You always think that everybody dislikes and misunderstands you, Severus. It goes with the job and with the role you are playing. But I know what you mean. I understand. I know how you feel when all the world suddenly changes and everyone turns against you..."  
  
His voice died away.  
  
Michael didn't know what he could say at that. He didn't understand what went on here, but for some reason he was afraid to hurt this man's feelings.  
  
Before he could say anything, Jack got up from the rug in front of the fire and stretched. Then passed Remus, padded towards Michael and pushed his nose in his hand and licked it. Michael, distracted, briefly went through his fur with his hand before looking up at Remus again. He had to concentrate for this.  
  
But Remus seemed to be distracted as well. He looked from Michael to Jack and back again. An uncertain smile lit his eyes. "Well, I never thought I would see the day. No wonder you think you are not yourself, Sev. The day you and Sirius get along must be the day that the world splits in two and Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy fall in love. By the way, Sirius, why don't you morph?"  
  
Michael just stared at him. Serious again, he thought. What did all these people mean? As Jack patently kept his current shape, Remus looked worried again. "I'm sorry, Sirius," he said. "I probably shouldn't have said anything. Please keep in this shape, if you think it is safer. I'll inform Harry, if you like."  
  
Jack, apparently encouraged by the friendly voice of the man in front of him, padded towards Remus and sat down, tail waggling. Remus grinned and stroked him. "Alright, I'll inform him. But I bet he will be impatiently awaiting a visit from his godfather."  
  
Jack just licked Remus' hand. 


	5. Teaching

Title: Astray  
  
By: Melusina  
  
Email: Melusina Mayne   
  
Category: angst  
  
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Notes: Many thanks again to my beta Mairi. She checked this story for me. If you find any remaining blunders, blame me for them...  
  
Summary The ultimate answer to the question whether Snape is straight or gay: he is both. But he's not bi. Must be magic - but it's not.  
  
Part Five - Teaching  
  
The next morning Michael was standing in the classroom, nervously awaiting the first students. 1 R/H. He thought that these be might first years, but still didn't know what R/H meant. He couldn't believe that he was standing in this room and that he was really going to do this, but somehow it was just as unthinkable not to do it. Fortunately he had found a plan that showed him the seats of the different students. Snape seemed to have made such a plan for each of his classes, which meant that Michael wouldn't have trouble with the names. From the notes of his double, Michael understood that the students were to be referred to with their family names. It seemed to him a rather old-fashioned habit.  
  
He had extensively studied everything he could find in Snape's desk, but he still didn't have a clue what exactly he would do. His double seemed to be a rather stern taskmaster, judging from the amount of punishments he doled out. Well, he would just see. At least he had decided what he would have his first years do. They had just come to a point in their textbook that covered a lot of theory. He thought it would be good if they just summarised it and then wrote an essay about it, criticising the contents. It would at least keep them at work for quite some time. Perhaps he would have the opportunity to figure out what to do with them by the time they were finished. With that thought in mind, he decided that he would give them time to hand it in until the next week.  
  
The seventh years would give him more trouble, he thought. They were more advanced and they seemed to be a difficult lot, judging from his double's notes. In no other class detentions were doled out so often. The names of the same students came back again and again. Potter, Potter, Weasley, Thomas, Weasley and yet more Potter. Michael asked himself what the boy could have done to deserve so much punishment.  
  
A bell chimed and Michael tensed up. Shortly afterwards the students dropped in, chatting loudly. Without exception they seemed to be shocked to find their teacher in the room, waiting for them, and they hurried to sit down and take out their stuff. Michael wondered at their expression and thought that Snape probably didn't wait for them at the beginning of the lesson. But still - the students seemed terrified of him. Was his double that bad a teacher? He decided to test the theory when a student whispered something to another. "Silence," he thundered, causing not only the addressed student to flinch, but making the whole class freeze in the middle of what they were doing. Yes, Snape definitely was a stern teacher.  
  
As quiet as mice, the students continued taking out their books and - what was that? Quills? Yes, they had quills, unimaginable - and looked at him to start the lesson. He took a deep breath and started. "Please turn up page 83 of your textbook. Start reading pages 83 until 90. Summarise them and then write an essay criticising its contents. To be handed in Thursday next week. Start now."  
  
The students looked at each other, but nobody dared to make a sound. They silently took out their paper - wait, that was no paper, what was it? - and started to read. After a while, they started to write. Not a sound was made. Not a thing to be heard except the sound of scratching. Creepy. Once, a student looked at his neighbour's work, undoubtedly unable to decide in some matter for himself. Michael just raised one eyebrow at him and the boy paled, immediately turning to his own work. They were still utterly silent when the lesson was over and they walked out. Snape must be the worst teacher living, judging from their behaviour.  
  
The next lesson went much the same. Michael started to relax very slightly. He had no time to reflect, however, for the next class came in. 7 S/G. Apprehensively, Michael saw them enter. Seeing their teacher standing in front of the room, the students reacted in the same way as the class before them. Michael kept half an eye on the plan, trying to find out who were the ones that were always punished. There they were. Harry Potter. Ron Weasley. Dean Thomas. Weasley managed to walk against the table of a girl before heavily sitting down. Must be clumsy. Nice girl, though, he thought. Lovely eyes. He looked at the plan again. Hermione Granger. Hermione. The name caused a slight tinge in his heart. His late wife had been a great admirer of Shakespeare and had often told him that she wanted a daughter with such a name. The girl was very bright, judging from his double's notes. He hoped she was.  
  
When the class was seated and looked at him, he said "Please turn up page 151 of your book. Miss Granger, Miss Bulstrode, please come up to the front of the class."  
  
All the students looked at each other and then back at Michael.  
  
"Miss Bulstrode, please read the instructions on that page and start making that potion. Miss Granger, please pay close attention to what she is doing and correct her if necessary. The rest of the class: please read the part as well and make notes."  
  
He might as well have said that they were to paint the sun green. The silence was complete, until a girl, very likely Bulstrode, panted "Please, Professor, I..."  
  
"Silence," Michael thundered, having learned the effects of this in the previous lessons. Come up here, girl, and do as I have said. You too, Granger."  
  
Both girls hesitatingly came forward. Bulstrode - Snape's notes gave away that she was as dumb as she looked - looked at him with an uncomprehending look in her eyes. 'Professor Snape, sir? I..."  
  
"Don't dawdle, girl," Michael, drawled, starting to like his role. "Can't you read?"  
  
The girl seemed dumbstruck, but she started the potion with trembling hands. From the first moment, Granger had to interfere and to correct her. This seemed to have the strangest effect on the class. Whispers grew loud. One half of the class started to look very angry. The other seemed to be sneering and giggling. A nice lot.  
  
When the lesson ended, Bulstrode looked near tears and Granger was by no means as calm as she had looked in the beginning. The class seemed to be in restless confusion. When he saw one boy - Michael thought he was called Malfoy - whisper something to his neighbour, Michael raised his eyebrows once more and said coolly "I hope you all made notes. Next time I expect an essay on the benefits of co-operation while handling dangerous materials. Mister Malfoy, please stay behind to clean this mess. I don't want talking in my classroom."  
  
Which seemed to be another bombshell.  
  
Now whispering excitedly, the students left the room. The last two to leave were Granger and Malfoy, who turned out to be the same boy Michael had seen before. Granger took her bag and books and left, but now before shooting Michael a very thoughtful glance. Malfoy just seemed perplex - and very clumsy in cleaning, but thanks to Michael's icy glare - he must be getting used to it; it certainly bore an effect - said nothing.  
  
The last lesson of the day was more quiet, but Michael found himself exhausted. 


	6. Reflections

**Title:** Astray

**By:** Melusina

**Category:** angst

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Notes:** Many thanks again to my beta Mairi. She checked this story for me. If you find any remaining blunders, blame me for them...

OOOOOOO Silverthreads – thank you for your reviews! Hope you will like like this part as wel!!

OOOOOOO FemmeLoki and Jaypallas – you too! Never knew that reviews would make such a difference, but they do...ï 


	7. Developments

**Title:** Astray

**By:** Melusina

**Category:** angst

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Notes:** Many thanks again to my beta Mairi. She checked this story for me. If you find any remaining blunders, blame me for them...

Please excuse me for the delay. I spent some beautiful weeks in Italy...   
  
Part Seven - Developments 

Remus Lupin walked through the corridor that lead to the gardens outside. He frowned. His thoughts were teasing him, but try as he might, he couldn't come to a logical conclusion. The problem was Severus Snape. Of course he was.

The problem was: what was the problem? Why couldn't Severus just be slightly more conventional and thus stick to one set of problems? But no. He had to be shifting and elusive and refuse to be categorised. Sodding slytherinish bastard. Well, it figured. He must be afraid that somebody would ever find him out. Good job at hiding himself so far. One to zero for Snape, for Remus could make absolutely no sense of him.

Several times he had thought he had made Snape out. When they were both at school, Remus thought that Severus was just a very lonely, jealous and aggressive boy, with the social skills of a gutter rat.

When he was a man and a teacher, Remus had - amusedly, at times - thought that he was still as lonely and biting as he had been as a boy, but that the man was starting to be pathetic in his attempts to lash out. The episode with the boggart in the teachers' lounge had proved it - or so Lupin had thought at the time. When Snape had revealed Lupin's secret, Lupin had been shocked to find out how much deeper the other man's bitter anger went. He had known Snape was a very bitter, scarred man. He just hadn't known, how bitter and how scarred. Still, he had thought that he knew the man to some degree.

Snape had proved him wrong once more. The backbone in all his self-pity and wallowing was a quiet nobility and a determination to do the right thing. His cold determination and endurance as a spy, the intelligence and the despair with which he walked the fine line between information and betrayal, between crime and salvation, between his use of and fascination by the dark arts proved this. Or so Remus had thought.

But he was proved wrong once more. How on earth was it possible that the man could be walking around the gardens like he did the day before? As if he didn't have a care in the world? With Sirius running in circles around him, no less? How was it possible that he hadn't handed out a detention in three weeks? How was it possible that he had suddenly revolutionised his entire teaching system? How was it possible that he had let his hand read by Trelawney, making her believe that he took her mumbling serious? How, how, how...?

There was no way Remus could make any sense of it all. Mustn't Albus must know all about Snape's recent change of character? Could it be that the torture Snape was undergoing all the time had mellowed him? Well, it was a possibility, but it hadn't done that for Snape in the past. To say the least.

If he was entirely honest with himself, Remus had to confess that the only reason these changes occupied him like this, was that they affected him so deeply. When he had taught at Hogwarts, four years earlier, he had found himself ready to forget the past and enter into a more adult relationship with his fellow teachers. With Snape, this just hadn't been possible. Thus, they had kept their distance, but Remus had looked at the other man with different eyes. Perhaps the reason was that Severus was the only other man of his age at Hogwarts. Perhaps because his lycanthropy made him reserved towards people who didn't know anything about him. Perhaps it was because of Snape's suppressed passion, but Remus felt that Snape fascinated and attracted him. When Snape had betrayed him, he had felt all the more hurt and angry because of this unspoken attraction. And it had taken the longer for him to get over it.

Now he was at Hogwarts again. In spite of everything, he had again felt the attraction. The man was even more unapproachable than he had been before. Still, Remus sometimes felt his heart go out to him when he returned from one of the dark lord's summonings. Hurt, but unbroken. In spite of everything, he had again tried to get closer to Snape. The last few months he had had the impression that the other man welcomed him. And Remus' heart had jumped in his chest.

Only to be mistaken again. How was it possible? How could it be that Severus on the one hand appeared more open and approachable than ever before in his life and at the same seemed to be an absolute stranger? Sometimes Remus had the impression that he had just as much history with him as with a chance-met person in the train. It was maddening.

Sighing, he went outside. He had had the last class of the day and he wanted to enjoy some sunshine before he locked himself in with his marking. He walked towards the lake and noted the water looked exceptionally beautiful. It reflected the colour of the sky and the sun painted the waves golden.

He went to the shores and sat down in the shadow of a large tree. He felt the peace of the place slowly wash over him and he relaxed a bit. It was amazing in what a golden light the world suddenly appeared. He smiled a bit wistfully.

After a moment he heard footsteps behind him and turned around to see who was coming. It was Hermione Granger. Remus smiled and nodded at her. Hermione smiled at him as well, but slowed down and looked at him uncertainly. It was clear that she had intended to sit down under the tree - to study, apparently - but she seemed to be unsure whether to do so or to go somewhere else. Invitingly, Remus pointed at the grass next to him. Hesitatingly, Hermione sat down.

"Please, excuse me, professor, I didn't want to disturb you."

"You don't," Remus replied. "And it is good to share the view with somebody else."

"It is," nodded Hermione. "It is a good place to think."

Remus raised his eyebrows. "You mean, apart from your study? Is something bothering you?"

Hermione blushed a little bit. Well, I'm not sure. Not really. It is just..."

Remus waited.

"It is just that... Did you know that Professor Snape thinks everybody should have equal rights? He said so in class today. I don't think the Slytherins have ever heard anything like that from him, for they gaped at him like fish."

Remus opened his mouth to say something, but Hermione went on "I was dumbfounded to hear him say a thing like that. But then I asked him whether that went on for house elves as well, but Professor Snape looked at me as if he had never heard of house elves before. Can you imagine what made him say anything like that? Wouldn't it be dangerous for his position in the Order?"

Remus looked at her. "I can imagine that you should think that. Perhaps he has some ulterior motive?"

"I thought that myself. But what could it be? I can think of nothing. He must know that they will inform their parents and then they will run to the dark lord with it. What could be the reason of that?"

"Perhaps it is some plan of the dark lord?"

"I thought of that as well. But what could he want? Create confusion? Make people think that he is planning what they think he is?"

"Perhaps he wants Professor Snape to establish his character here in school more firmly, so that he will be more effective as his spy. But that doesn't sound very believable, does it?"

"No," said Hermione honestly. "But I can't think of a better reason than that myself."

She hesitated. "Do you think he has gone mad, sir?"

Despite himself, Remus smiled. "The thought crossed my mind. But I do not really think it. And we shouldn't discuss Professor Snape in this way. Unless you think you really have a reason for anxiety?"

"No, sir," Hermione said, rising. "I need to study, sir. Thank you for listening to me."

Remus nodded at her.

Hermione got up and sat down at some distance. But she didn't study. Lupin obviously didn't want to discuss Snape in depth with her, but she could see, that he wondered just as much as she did. And she wasn't going to stop out of discretion.

She sighed. She had thought about this a lot these past few weeks, but she couldn't lay her fingers on something more solid. She had already searched in the library for a more detailed account of long-term effects of the Cruciatus curse. But the results, apart from being nightmarish, hadn't helped her any. She must find something else. What could it be? What could cause a man to change his entire lifestyle and all his habits in the course of weeks? It was simply impossible.

Suddenly she sat straight. What if it wasn't Snape at all? It wouldn't be the first time that somebody under disguise had entered Hogwarts. Was it a death eater disguised with Polyjuice potion? But no - that couldn't be it. She had frequently attended double potions with Snape and those were longer than an hour. Could Snape be drinking Polyjuice? No, he was very sparing in his habits and never partook of anything apart from the meals in the great hall. Or as far as Hermione could tell. There was no more confirmed recluse than Severus Snape. Or was it possible to brew a longer lasting Polyjuice potion? This definitely deserved some reading up, she thought happily, and wrote it down. What more could it be? A glamour spell? She had learned about those in the fascinating extra lesson McGonagall had once given, on the theories of A. Severitus. What was the counter charm again? One more thing to be researched. Perhaps a multitude of different spells? Harder to find out if you were unaware, but more easy to detect if you were...

A new visit to the library was definitely in order, she thought. She must also find all the ways for humans to disguise their true shape. Combinations of spells and potions were a definite possibility. And what about shape changing cloaks? But wouldn't the wards have detected that much concealment magic? And wouldn't Dumbledore have known? Another point of research. Wards. Although she didn't much in that respect, given the success of "Mad-Eye Moody" in their fourth year. With a weary sigh she got up. The essay for McGonagall must wait for now. She had another three weeks to finish it anyway. This was more important.

She got up quickly and then remembered professor Lupin, who was still sitting under the tree. She briefly debated whether to tell him about her suspicions or not, but then decided against it. After all, it might be humbug and she didn't want him to think any less of her as it was.

She quickly got to the library and sat down. She didn't see the surprised face of Madam Pince, who had just before seen her leave it, and sat down. Polyjuice first. Wait. She needed a signature to enter the restricted part. Would professor Lupin sign one for her? She sighed, for once regretting the absence of the late lamented professor Gilderoy Lockhart. Well, Lupin it must be. She went out again. On her way outside she contemplated what to tell him, but quickly decided that it must be the truth in some way. Part of it anyway. He would smell it if she were to lie.

Lupin was fortunately still sitting under the tree. He looked at Hermione with his golden eyes drawn to slits when she asked his permission, stating that she wanted to see whether it might be useful for the order some day. But he said nothing and signed a slip of parchment for her. Finally.

It was a disappointment, though. She leafed through Moste Potente Potions and half a dozen other works, anything solid she could find on the Polyjuice potion, but found nothing. Oh, it was certainly possible to make it stronger and longer lasting. But was it possible that Snape would have risked the severe side effects of such a long period of exposure? Knowing him, he probably would. But then - if this man really was under its influence, then it wouldn't be Snape. Could he have made the potion and have somebody else drink it? Why would he do such a thing? Would he deliberately have co-operated in this? It seemed that only an accomplished potions maker would be able to brew this kind of potion anyway. Was it possible that somebody else except Snape was able to do it? She couldn't decide it. There were too many unknown factors. One thing was certain however - if somebody was pretending to be Snape with the help of this potion, then there must be some signs. Small ones. The hair would discolour after some time. The fingernails would start to show slight deformities. And the teeth would yellow. Well, that last thing made it a dead certainty, Hermione thought, and giggled slightly. She must pay attention in the next lesson.

Next. Charms. She speedily found the counter charm for the possible glamour and wrote it down, next to half a dozen other possibilities. Now a more difficult thing. Combinations of potions and charms. This was for more complicated than anything else she had been researching, and the subject left her with a lot of work so that she was startled by the summons for diner.

Grumbling, she left the library. Where could she use the charm? Wait. That was no question. Snape would have to referee the next Quidditch match of Gryffindor against Ravenclaw. She could easily cast the charm. It was more likely that anyone would notice if she were to cheer Slytherin than if she would cast a charm.

That evening, Michael went up the stairs to join his honorary colleague's for diner. He found his way easily, as if he had lived there for years. He noticed it, but no longer thought about it. The first few weeks he had frantically tried to find out everything about Snape he could. To draw his conclusions about the man and to live like his double as much as he could. He no longer did it. Somehow, the castle and the magic caught up with him and he allowed himself to live from day to day, no longer asking himself much but accepting every situation as it came. It was fascinating. Absolutely addicting. From time to time he felt violently guilty. More than once he was on the point of confessing everything to Dumbledore. But he never did.

As he sat down for diner, next to Madame Hooch this time, she turned up to him and said, "Ah, Severus, you remember our appointment, don't you?"

"Our appointment?" Michael repeated, raising an eyebrow. It was a technique he had speedily perfected when confronted with situations to which he had no answer. "Yes, appointment. I can't referee the next match myself. You were going to do it. Don't forget it please. It will be next Saturday. Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw."

Michael didn't have a clue what she was talking about, but nodded, feeling that he couldn't ask for clarification. Fortunately, Hooch didn't talk to him anymore, and he finished his diner in silence.

After diner, he went outside. It was far too lovely an evening to spend inside. When he walked past the students, he noticed the lovely Gryffindor girl again. He nodded at her and she nodded back, apparently a bit amazed. Michael hesitated, but couldn't find an excuse to address her. And he thought that it wouldn't be proper if he showed himself too interested. He was posing as her professor after all. It was a pity though.

When he got outside, he looked around him and decided to visit Hagrid. After his initial shock he had discovered that he rather liked the giant. And the man had the most amazing animals. But Hagrid didn't seem to be in his hut. Where could he be? Hearing a strange noise a few yards away, he turned towards it. Hagrid was working with some animal, but apparently without too much success. What kind of animal was it? It seemed to be some kind of a dog, but bigger. Before Michael reached Hagrid, however, Hermione came along. Michael hadn't seen her, but suddenly heard her voice. "Hagrid, what are you doing? What kind of an animal is that? Is that a Lupador? I read about them They are amazing. They can... What is wrong with this one? Is he hurt?"

"Ah, H'mione, good t'see ye. Now shush. Need to concentrate. Got a nasty snakebite in 'is front paw. Needs t' calm down a bit more, but I'm in a hurry. Poison works very quickly."

Michael frowned a bit at this last information. He looked at the animal - some sort of a lionish dog. The animal looked far from calm, and judging from the look in his eyes, the poison was already doing its job. Hagrid, though skilled with animals, would need to hurry to be in time. He remembered the countless animals he had had in his practice and said quickly, "Hagrid, make way. I think I can help. Hand him to me."

Hagrid shot him a very doubting look, but he must have heard something in Michael's voice, for he reluctantly handed the animal over. It was by no means simple, for the animal, sensing escape, struggled more fiercely to get away. Michael firmly but gently took hold of the feverish body and stroked it behind its ears, murmuring quiet, soothing words. Not raising his voice nor changing its tone, he demanded Hagrid to get him warm, not too hot water. Hagrid started to get up, but Hermione shot him an amazed look and then summoned the water with her wand. Michael just nodded. "Now, a very sharp knife. The sharpest you've got." Again, Hermione summoned what he needed, but the look of mystery in her eyes grew.

Michael didn't pay attention to her. He concentrated on the animal, using everything in his power to calm him down, at the same time working as quickly and as efficiently as he could. He gently put both front claws in the water. It seemed to calm the animal a bit more. Then he very quickly cut the paw and let it bleed. The animal didn't feel it. The knife was too sharp and the skin was softer in the water. But the blood was streaming out of the wound. Michael hoped that all the poison would get out this way, but thought the additional treatment would be a good idea. What was it again he had once used with that cow in a very isolated farm? Well, he would see to that later. For now, the bleeding seemed to slow down, and the animal had calmed. Perhaps the loss of blood helped with that as well.

As the water cooled, he raised the animal out of it, helped by Hagrid's enormous hands. Hagrid very gently held the dog in his arms and carried it back to his hut. Michael followed him. He was content when he saw that the animal was quickly falling asleep. It gave him time to prepare the treatment he had in mind. It was a very old recipe, but effective. He found all the herbs he needed at Hagrid hut, and quickly prepared it, explaining to Hagrid what he was doing and why. The giant listened to him and promised to apply it. And then invited him and for tea and home-made sweets. Michael innocently accepted the invitation and sat down. He quickly discovered that this had been a mistake and that he should he taken his cue from the girl, who had accepted only the tea.

They were sitting there for a while. Then, "Excuse me, professor, may I ask you a question?"

"Certainly," he answered, slightly amused. She always had questions. It was rather refreshing, he thought.

"Why didn't you charm the poison out of it? Wouldn't it have been much more painless?"

"As it is, the procedure was painless," Michael answered. "Apart from that, the water helped to calm the animal, and that is half the treatment. And it is sometimes good to treat without magic. It helps to strengthen the natural resilience of the body."

"But how will you know whether the animal is fully healed?"

Michael looked at her a bit amazed. "You can tell by the expression in the eyes. It is the clearest indication if there is something wrong with it. You can tell if it refuses food, by the way it moves, by the way it reacts to people. Well, you just _see_ it."

"Do you really think that if there is something wrong with an animal that you can see it in the eyes? Does that go on for people as well?"

"It goes on for all living creatures with a soul," Michael said quietly.

Hermione stared at him. "Does that go on for all sort of pain? But how about dark magic? Can you see that in the eyes as well?"

"Think for yourself," Michael said softly. He didn't want to make any statement on dark magic whatsoever.

He could practically see Hermione think. "When you practice dark magic, you use all kinds of negative emotions. Hatred, fear, disgust, malice. Can these emotions be healthy?"

"If balanced and given their right space," Michael only said.

She turned towards him. "Are they balanced in the right way when directed at somebody else?"

"It is never good to attempt to hurt somebody else," Michael said contemplatively. "But sometimes a catharsis could be just the thing you need. I don't know."

Hermione still stared at him, too excited about the thought to appreciate the subtlety of the argument.

"So, if you use dark magic, you hurt yourself. And you can see it in the eyes. Don't you think so? So if somebody uses too much dark magic, he ultimately destroys himself. Don't you think? Could this be a way to destroy Voldemort by his own dark magic?"

"I think you are way too fast in your conclusions," Michael said. What about the joy at doing something correctly and effectively? Wouldn't that counteract the darkness?"

Hermione's gaze clouded for a moment, but then brightened again. "I need to research this. Thank you professor. It is just fascinating."

Michael said nothing. He just smiled at her. She stared back at him. Confused. Suddenly, Hagrid's hut seemed too small. Professor Snape evoked so many different emotions inside her. She no longer knew how to act around him. She felt uncertain and very self-conscious and she could no longer keep her hands and her eyes still.

She abruptly jumped up and said breathlessly, "Thank you for the tea, Hagrid. Thank you, sir. Good evening," and sped out.

Michael stared after her, but didn't find an explanation for her behaviour with Hagrid, as the giant was staring at him himself.

The next morning, Michael came down for breakfast, to be greeted very cordially by Hagrid and Lupin. The giant was ecstatic. The Lupador had recovered completely and had never done better. He seemed to have adapted to human company better than his species generally did. In fact, he seemed to trust Hagrid enough to allow him to take a look at the paw. Not that it was necessary, as Professor Snape's treatment had worked like a charm. As he told Michael again and again. And again. And with him the whole staff.

Michael nodded and smiled and wished that Hagrid would finally stop talking. He was getting embarrassed. But the giant was deaf to all subtle hints about pressure for time and work. Thus Michael sighed through his breakfast and missed all the surprised glances of the staff in his direction. He escaped as soon as possible, but not before Madame Hooch had reminded him of the Quidditch. Michael just nodded.

Thus came the moment when he walked in the direction of the Quidditch pitch in the company of Remus Lupin. He hadn't been there before and he looked around himself in amazement, asking himself what had to be done in here.

He was very speedily informed. Lupin held a broomstick under his nose and wished him luck. Michael stared at it. What was he supposed to do with it? Sweep the floor? But then two groups of students few onto the field and he blanched. They wanted him to fly with it? How in all the world was he going to do that? There was no way he could ever fake that. Unless... No, the broom didn't fly by itself. It must be the flyer's magic. He felt ill. What was he going to do? Faint? No, they would very likely revive him and send him off just the same. There would be no faking illness...

Remus Lupin looked at him and saw his start. What could be wrong with Severus? The man looked positively ill. Was he shaking? Yes. He looked as if he was ready to sink. He took his arm gently.

"Severus? Is everything alright with you?"

The man looked at him, but didn't say a word.

"Severus? What is the matter? Don't you want to fly?"

He saw something in the eyes of the other that disappeared again almost immediately. He couldn't interpret it. But the other shook his head, very slightly. "Why not," Remus asked urgently. It was odd. Severus had always been a passionate flyer. He received no answer. Remus shook his arm. He was starting to be very worried. But then, softly, "I'm afraid of heights." With his face turned away.

Remus started. Severus afraid of heights. Impossible. He had always been a reckless flyer as a youth. Unless... A series of unwanted images appeared in front of his mental eye very quickly. Severus abandoning Quidditch. Severus, refusing to play it any longer. Severus, always scowling during every match. Severus, with his legendary unfairness towards all players non Slytherin. Could it be... But there was no time. He quickly took the broom and turned towards the headmaster.

After a minute he got back. Dumbledore had been very surprised by the request, but had granted it immediately. Michael sat down, pretending there was nothing wrong. The players reacted surprised as well, but no one protested. Not even the Ravenclaws, although Lupin's being a Gryffindor necessarily meant their disadvantage.

"They don't protest," Professor Sprout, sitting behind Michael, said to her neighbour.

"They probably rather have Lupin's possible prejudice than Snape's," the other woman dryly answered.

Michael pretended not to have heard her. He was by now thoroughly familiar with the house rivalry and had the ever growing conviction that there weren't any teachers at Hogwarts who were more unpopular than Snape.

Besides, his attention was riveted by the game. It was very exciting, and after a while he understood the rules. He shivered when he witnessed the neck-or-nothing attitude of the players. He didn't understand how anybody could fly like that and not have a mortal accident. Suddenly one of the players in red flew to the ground, at an irresponsible speed and apparently in the conviction that the earth would swallow him as if it were water. One foot above the ground he suddenly stopped and moved with lightning speed. He seemed to be holding something and the world around Michael erupted in applause. Michael released his breath, realising that the player was still alive and that the game was over. He got up and clapped loudly, shouting his approval.

He still felt the tension of the game in his body, so it was only after a few moment that he noticed that all the professors had stopped clapping and stared at him. He abruptly stopped clapping, feeling embarrassed but not sure what he had done wrong. Professor Sprout stared at him. Professor Sinistra' pale blue eyes were wide open. Professor Flitwick tried to peek around the Hagrid's back to see what was happening anyway. Hagrid suddenly laughed and put an enormous hand on Michael's shoulder. "Mighty sportive of ye, pr'fessor. I c'nfess I hadn't 'xpected it of ye. Mighty sportive!"

At that moment, Albus Dumbledore came towards him and clapped him on the shoulder. "Severus. I'm so proud of you. Like Hagrid said: I hadn't expected it of you, but I am proud."

Michael coloured. He was absolutely embarrassed and looked at the ground. He didn't know what to say. He felt himself blush and finally snapped "Like it is something special to applaud during a match!"

This seemed to break the tension among the teachers. They all laughed and left the stands.

When he walked up towards the castle, Hermione approached Michael, hesitatingly. "Professor? Excuse me, but can I have a word with you, please?"

Michael smiled at her, relieved to be able to concentrate on something else. She really was a very nice girl. "Certainly," he answered politely.

Hermione stared at him, confused, for a moment.

"I thought about what you said the other day, professor, about what you can see in the eye of a living creature. But I don't understand it. I understand that you can see pain and confusion in the eyes of a living creature. Naturally, they are bad feelings, so..."

"Are they?" Michael calmly interrupted.

She stared at him again. "Why, of course, professor. How could they possibly be good?"

"The pain of loss can lead to something good, can it not?" He asked. "It is natural to feel pain sometimes. It is not necessarily evil."

"But..." It took Hermione a second to arrange her thoughts. "Pain and confusion, anger, frustration hurt the person who is feeling them. They harm him, physically and mentally. How could they be good?"

"They also make him stronger. Physical exertion, to give another example, is not always enjoyable. But it strengthens the body."

"But how is it possible that anger and frustration are the core of dark magic when they are not evil?"

"I said: not necessarily evil," Michael calmly corrected. "I leave it up to you to find an answer."

He smiled at her again. Her enthusiasm and her intensity reminded him of his own years at university and gave him energy. It was a long time ago when he had last felt that.

Hermione stared at him again. He had done it again. He smiled at him again. She had spent almost seven years at Hogwarts, and he had never taken the trouble to notice her, except to sneer and to humiliate her. But now he smiled at her. It gave her a weird feeling. She didn't quite know how to handle it. She had always known that he was an extremely intelligent man, but no one had ever given her such things to think about. His thinking was so out of the way. Nothing she had ever before heard at Hogwarts.

How could this be Snape? It couldn't be. But she had cast the anti glamour spell on him when he was watching Harry. It had revealed nothing. Absolutely nothing. It seemed that he had done even less wand magic than usual, for she could trace absolutely no residue of spilt magic on him. And he must have washed himself carefully before watching the match, for there were no magical potions-related stains on him. Now that she though about it, he must have washed himself more often the last few weeks, for his hair was not nearly as greasy. He must have cut it a bit too. Or perhaps his hairdresser had washed it for him. She giggled at the thought.

What could have changed the man? He showed no sings of prolonged use of potions. But he would know how to conceal those, of course.

The change was for the better, though. He had the most beautiful hands. His eyes were beautiful when he smiled. How could it be that the man was always so alone? Could he ever have been in love? Must have been an unhappy love, she thought.

She was so much in thought that she didn't notice that Michael looked after her when she entered the castle. She really was lovely, he thought. A pity that she was unapproachable. Or was she? He remembered some of the titles in his double's bookcase. Hmm. A moment he felt guilty about the way he used his double's property. But he couldn't resist the thought. Hermione would certainly be interested. Hmm...

As he walked up to the castle, Jack ran towards him, having spent a delightful afternoon chasing around. He put his nose into Michael's hand and licked it. Michael violently startled. He had been far too deeply engrossed in his thoughts. "Sod off," he growled towards Jack and walked towards the castle with long strides. Jack looked after him and whined softly, but Michael didn't even notice. Remus Lupin looked after him pensively.


	8. Escape

**Title:** Astray

**By:** Melusina

**Category:** angst

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Notes:** Many thanks again to my beta Mairi. She checked this story for me. If you find any remaining blunders, blame me for them...

Part Eight - Escape 

His head was throbbing. His back hurt. His legs hurt. He was nauseous and his breath came in short, sharp and painful draws. Keep going, he thought. You are not going to die yet. Not today. The image of Hogwarts was before his eyes, illuminated like the first time he had ever come to it. Like a beacon, warm, comfortable, home. He felt as if he would never reach it. But he had to.

The absolute necessity of his getting there made him desperate, he was very near giving up, resigned to his fate. In a thousand years... he thought, what I do today will no longer be of any consequence. But the thought held no comfort whatsoever. There was only darkness There had only ever been darkness.


	9. Falling

**Title:** Astray

**By:** Melusina

**Category:** angst

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Notes:** Many thanks again to my beta Mairi. She checked this story for me. If you find any remaining blunders, blame me for them

Femme Loki – Thank you! Pity Hermione isn't one of the major charactersâï

Part Nine - Falling 

Later that day, Michael was sitting in his double's office, trying to imagine what he might do in his next lessons. So far, he wasn't unsatisfied with the result. It inspired the seventh years to more creative thinking. He knew he couldn't go on like this for very much longer, but as it had been going, it wasn't too bad.

The next lesson would be complicated, though. It involved transfiguration of an ingredient, applying several different heating charms, identifying ingredients that all looked frightfully the same, and more quite unmanageable tasks. In Michael's opinion.

But he thought he had found a solution to the problem. The students would be surprised. The thought made him smile to himself when he sat down to make a plan for the younger students. He was still smiling when he heard the knock on the door.

He opened it. Remus Lupin was standing outside. Jack, who was lying on a carpet in front of the fire, expectantly raised his head. Apparently, he liked the werewolf.

"May I come in for a moment?"

Michael just nodded.

"I still have enough of the potion, if that's what you think. You left so much the last time, Severus."

Michael couldn't think of anything to say.

Remus was silent for a moment as well. He sent an awkward glance in Jack's direction. Michael wondered at it. It couldn't be that the man felt uncomfortable in the presence of the dog, could it?

Then "Iâ I don't really know what to say, Severus, I"

Michael stared at him.

"I find it hard to put into words what I am feeling, but Iâ I don't know. You seemed to have changed so much over the last few weeks."

Michael froze.

"Or perhaps I understand it better now. It is as if I see you in a different light now"

"What do you mean by that?" Michael softly asked. He looked at the door, half expecting a furious headmaster, planning to do some magical evil by him.

But "I think it is a long time that my feelings for you started to change," Remus quietly said. "It needed a long time. I didn't understand it. I didn't want it. I thought you didn't want it. But latelyâ I have been worried about you. You seem to have changed so much. I thought you had been tortured beyond your limits. But it is a good change. You do seem much more open."

He raised his head and looked at Michael. "And this afternoonâ I never realisedâ Severus, I'm sorry. But I'm so happy that you finally said it. It explained so much. I never understood why you quit Quidditch, or why you were picking at James and Sirius so much. But now"

He raised his hand and touched Michael's cheek, shortly and gently.

Michael felt lamed. He looked at Remus, but didn't really understand what he was saying. The other man was standing way too close.

Remus slowly came closer. He looked at Michael, but the other man gave no sign of wishing to break the contact. He didn't stop Remus. The look in the black eyes was unreadable.

With one small step, Remus closed the distance between them. He touched Michael's cheek again, stroking it with his thumb and tangling his fingers in his hair.

Gently he drew him towards himself until their lips touched.

For moments they silently stood like that. It was unaccountably sweet. Remus felt the pressure of Severus' lips. His mind reeled. Severus smelled like forest and woods, herbs and trees. It was an intoxicating smell. He drew the other man closer and tried to deepen the kiss. For a moment he felt Severus stiffen. Then the other man seemed to relax in his arms and opened his lips.

Remus felt Severus' body against his. He felt the hard chest, the flexing movements of the arms and shoulders, the flat stomach. He felt him shiver in his arms. Slowly, he moved his lips against Severus'. His tongue slid in and he explored the other man's mouth. Their eyes were closed. Their tongues leisurely explored.

Remus could feel the tension in his stomach. He wanted more, he wanted closer. He pushed Severus backwards until the other man was standing with his back against the wall. Severus moaned, but didn't really protest. It was delicious.

Finally, Remus broke the kiss. He breathed heavily and looked at Severus. The other man stared at him with a blank, confused look in his eyes. He was shivering slightly. He didn't say anything, but neither did he anything to break Remus' hold of him.

With his thumb, Remus stroked his cheek again. He just had to touch the other man. He couldn't let go of him. He neared him again, and brushed Severus' lips with another, very gentle kiss.

This seemed to snap Severus out of his dreamlike trance. His eyes focused again and widened - with what, Remus couldn't tell.

A shudder went through him and Remus held him comfortingly. He could imagine what Severus was feeling only too well. He had needed a lot of time himself to come to terms with this attraction. It seemed that Severus had only now realised it.

During the kiss, Jack had raised his head again. When the two humans didn't disentangle, he slowly rose to his feet and padded towards them, growling softly. He wasn't used to seeing his master this close to somebody else and didn't know what to make of it.

He walked closely past Remus and pushed his nose between the legs of his master, searching for his hand to put his nose into.

Remus felt that Severus shivered in his arms. Then he felt himself being gently pushed away.

"I'm sorry," the other said hoarsely. "I hadn't meantâ I never wanted toâ I didn't want to give you the idea thatâ I'm sorry, Remus. I'm sorry. I can't do this, but I'm sorry."

Remus looked at him intently. "Look, I should be the one who is apologizing. I realize that this is too quick. We have such a history, and youâ I mean, Iâ It is just that I thought, thatâ And with Sirius hereâ I realize that there is a lot that you cannot tell me. It makes the whole thing more awkward than it already is. I just"

"No, don't say it. It's my fault, Remus. I let this go too far. Remus, I'm sorry. I should have told you the truth. I don't know how I could let it happen. It just was so unbelievable. I somehow got so deeply into it, I couldn't bring myself to break it off. You see"

Remus interrupted him, grabbing his hand. He listened to the other man's words and felt the love in his heart at those words. He couldn't believe that it was really Severus to say such things to him.

He stroked the knuckles of his hand with his thumb. He saw embarrassment, and many other emotions he couldn't name. It gave him a tiny peek in his heart.

He let go of the hand to stroke Severus' temples again. Then he drew the black head back towards him and kissed him again. This time it was tender, understanding, loving.

Severus was unresponsive at first. Then he shivered slightly and seemed to sigh under the kiss and started to respond. It was lovely. It was tender. It was perfect.

They broke the kiss. Remus felt that Severus pushed him away.

"I'm sorry," Severus softly said again. "I'm just a coward. I not the one you think I am. I just walked by. The next thing I knew was that I was living a life in a fairy tale castle. I left everything behind and I spend the days lying and play-acting to everybody. And this just tops it all."

Some vague alarm began to form itself in the back of Remus' head. Unwillingly he remembered the many discussions, whispers, gossiping and speculations in the castle on the subject of Severus Snape. Unbidden, the memory of Hermione Granger, sitting next to him at the side of the lake rose in front of his mind's eye and he looked at him very sharply. Could he have been wrong? But no, the man was a trusted member of the order. He had been through so much hardship that many had feared for the tranquillity of his mind.

Thinking of whichâ But no, that couldn't be it either. There was pain, despair, and confusion in Severus' eyes. But no madness. But what could it be then?

He saw Sirius, no sitting quietly next to Severus, happily licking his hand. Severus was absentmindedly stroking him, eyes turned away.

He looked again at Severus. "How long has it been that anybody loved you?" he hoarsely asked.

He saw the tears jump again in Severus' eyes. Pain, undisguised this time.

Something clenched in his chest and he drew Severus towards him again. He kissed him. Roughly, passionately. Severus answered him. Giving everything.

Out of breath they broke the kiss. They stared at each other. Then Severus roughly shoved him away.

"I'm sorry. Please leave me be. I need to be alone. Please. Leave me alone."

Remus looked at him and left although it hurt him. He understood the other man's need for privacy. He needed it himself. When he walked back, he felt as if he could jump and cry at the same time.

When Remus was gone, Michael fell down on his bed and covered his face with his hands. It was a long time ago that he had felt so disgusted with himself. Dirty, infected body and soul with lasting filth. What was the matter with him? He liked Remus. The other man had never been anything but polite and friendly towards him. How could he have played with his emotions like that? Allowed Remus to kiss him and to tell him he loved him. The shame of the memory burned in his throat and he felt like throwing up.

He hadn't thought that the memory of his wife could have betrayed him in such a manner. He still missed her. The memory of her death still hurt him, but in the past two years, he thought he had gradually got over it. Until the nightmares, that is. Remus remark still cut him like a knife. 'How long has it been that anybody loved you?' Far too long, he thought. Which led to the thought - how long had it been that anyone had loved Snape? And worse - how could he have betrayed Snape in such a manner? He had to go and tell Dumbledore. Whatever the consequences.

But he was exhausted by the emotions of the evening and thought that he would go to Dumbledore in the morning. He doubted whether he would be able to explain it coherently in his present state of mind. In the middle of these ponderings, he fell asleep.

It was a very tired Michael who went up to Dumbledore's office the next morning. The night before he had been determined to confess everything to the headmaster. But during the night he had been in the grips of a more awful nightmare than ever before. He had woken up with start in the early hours of dawn and had been unable to find sleep anymore. Fragments of his dream still chased him, combined with his feelings of guilt and fear. The old man looked at him with kind eyes and invited him to sit down.

"Sir, I no longer know what to tell you. I thought I knew, but these nightmares" he shivered visibly.

Dumbledore leant towards him, worry in his eyes.

"You've had a nightmare? Another one?"

Michael just nodded. He still felt the overwhelming urge of minutes ago, when he, still in the grips of a chilling nightmare, had thought that the headmaster must know. But now that he was sitting there – what could he tell the headmaster at all? How could his dreams be of any importance to him?

He kept silent, in complete confusion.

"Severus," the old man urged. "Are you feeling all right? Do you need Poppy?"

"No, no," Michael said in confusion. Not the medi-witch. He had decided earlier that he must stay out of her reach, out of some vague fear that she might look through him. He hardly knew why, but kept to his former policy.

"Headmaster, I need to tell you. I had another dream. You know, I saw him. He was there. It confused me, because I thought that it was me. I've never seen him before. Strange, really. But it couldn't be, of course. I didn't know all those people around him. Malfoy was there, though. And Avery. And that woman. I've seen her in other dreams. They were planning. Snape was among them you know. They agreed that he was to take the road under the tree. I don't remember exactly what it was."

"The Womping Willow?" Dumbledore asked sharply.

"Yes"

"Then there was another man. He accused Snape. Of being a spy. They took him."

Michael covered his face with his hands. He still felt sick when he thought about it.

Dumbledore stared at him, deeply worried.

"Did this happen the last time you were summoned, Severus? Were you in any way obliviated?"

Michael shook his head. He felt a bit clearer. Part of it had been said. He raised his head and steadfastly looked at Dumbledore.

"No, sir. You don't understand. There has been a misunderstanding about my person. I am deeply ashamed that I allowed it to go on for so long, but it has to stop now. I can no longer continue like this."

Dumbledore went very still.

"I am not the man you think you are. I just walked by one day and reached this castle. And everybody took me for somebody that I am not. I must confess that I was so utterly intrigued by everything that went on in this castle that I allowed this exchange to continue. It was as if I had entered another world. I am ashamed that tried to deceive all of you, but I want to stop it now. I never thought that the feelings of the persons around me would be affected so deeply. I don't want to hurt them any more then necessary. Apart from that, I think it would be irresponsible if I were to teach these students longer. I am not qualified to do that. I wanted to come to you yesterday evening, but I confess I was exhausted. But I am doing so now."

During his speech, Dumbledore's eyes began to twinkle understandingly again.

"My dear boy – I have made many mistakes in my life. And many people have accused me of one when I accepted you as one of my teachers and decided to trust you. But I am proud of you. I have never been more proud of you than at this moment. You have changed, child, more than you think. As for your being somebody else than most people think – why child, I am aware of that. I understand that you sometimes don't understand yourself. Perhaps you will see this in a different light in the future. As it is, I am happy that you have finally made your peace with Sirius. I couldn't have thought that this reconciliation would have such far reaching consequences."

Here the twinkle grew so profound, that Michael stared at the old man, trying to decided whether he had really winked at him. Apparently, he had.

He sighed. "Sir, you don't understand. I don't belong here. I'm not the man you think I am. I need to get out of this castle, although I would be sorry to do so. You don't understand, but I think you lost Professor Snape. I don't know what he has been doing, but I am not he. We are different persons. If I really dreamed about him, I think he is in serious danger, if not dead already. In my dream, they were making plans for something. I don't know what. But I think there is danger somewhere. Sir, you've got to do something!"

Dumbledore's gaze grew serious again. "We will certainly take this warning very seriously, Severus," he said. "I haven't had any indications from Harry that he has had any similar nightmares. I will ask him about it, though. To all appearances, you will be summoned again soon, Severus. Are you prepared?"

Michael stared at the man. What had he done wrong? He tried one more time. "Sir, you don't understand. Please. I am not Professor Snape. I cannot be him. I'm somebody else. You've lost your professor. You must do something! I'm convinced the man is in danger."

Dumbledore sighed. All of a sudden he looked like an old man. "This war is a strain upon us all, Severus. Under pressure some explode, others develop into diamonds. I trust you, Severus. Have faith in yourself."

Dumbledore nodded at Michael and he understood that he was dismissed.

He rose, thoughts swirling through his head. He didn't understand anything anymore. It was as if these people spoke an entirely different language.

He staggered out, suddenly feeling the intense desire to find some quiet by the lake.


	10. Mirroring Effect

**Title:** Astray

**By:** Melusina

**Category:** angst

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Notes:** Many thanks again to my beta Mairi. She checked this story for me. If you find any remaining blunders, blame me for them...

Silverthreads – I'm sorry to be frustrating you... (smiley)

Part Ten – Mirroring Effect 

XXXXXX

Only a small part left to go. You can do it. Never mind the nausea. You know it will pass. You've had worse. You are strong enough. Quiet. One step after another. Try to move your upper body as little as possible. You can keep the nausea down. Breathe. This is way better. It's your own fault, though. Hell wants hell to pay. There's worse to come. Don't think that. You can do it. Don't try to hurry. You will go faster if you try to do it quietly. You know this forest. Don't go there. The spiders' lair. It is fortunate that you've been here so often before. Like that. Yes.

Good preparation. Do you really think you can continue this much longer? He has almost found you out. You know he did. Good thing that fool Pettigrew started blab. Saved your miserable life once more. The dark lord must be getting weary. Wouldn't have happened to him before. So it's not your doing to have gotten away this time. The next time you're framed. Or the one after that. What does it matter anymore?

It matters. Get a grip. You are not going to die like that. Why not? It wouldn't even be exchanging one hell for another. I've had that before. Might even get some peace. You know you wouldn't. Not like this. Keep going. I will haunt you if you don't. Great. Being threatened by my own ghost. Pathetic. My mind has apparently finally become unhinged. Schizophrenia. Clear case. Not without some interest, though. Interested? Is there still some part of me that wants to live? But why? Is there one reason in this world or the next why I should want that? What is there in it that I haven't seen before? How would you imagine your life to be? Career? I don't know if I still want it. I used to. But the whole world changed. Well, and what do you dream anyway. Like you would ever get rid of that beautiful stigma on your arm. You're in for life, and you know it. What then? People around you? (Do you not even dare to think it?) So – people? Well, what people? You've done your best to chase away anyone who might have been a candidate. Done a great job, too. They would forget you if you rebuilt Hogwarts. Stone by stone. They would very likely still credit Dumbledore. Or worse. Potter. Keep going. Just keep going.

XXXX

Hermione hesitated as she saw the lonely figure of her professor, sitting by the lake. Strange how often she seemed to find him there. He used to be a lot more in the dungeons before. Another change. Perhaps the cold and the dark had finally affected him.

"Professor?"

She saw the look in his eyes. Bewildered. Strange. Completely different from his normal, poised self. She saw the anguish and momentarily forgot herself. "Professor, are you all right?" she laid her hand on his and he flinched.

"I cannot believe what I did," she heard him say. "I just betrayed them all. How could I?"

Hermione's heart seemed to stand still a moment. She could only stare at her professor. A thousand emotions went through her at the same time. The memory of Snape, taking care of a hurt animal. The look in his eyes when he talked about dark magic. The way he unconsciously seemed to relax when he looked at the lake and the forest. The way he had changed his teaching. Something was very wrong here. She was ice cold, but seemed unable to move.

"I am a stranger in this place. But somehow I feel at home. More so then in my own house. The last few years have been so empty. This world is just so fascinating. I'm sorry. I should leave."

Hermione forgot what she was thinking. "Professor, is there some way in which I can help you? What is the problem?"

He looked at her and seemed to notice her for the first time. He faintly smiled. Her heart jumped.

But "I don't think so," he flatly said.

"Don't you think you've got friends, Professor?" Hermione carefully asked.

"If people offer you their friendship, it is all the more bitter to be deceiving them," the other responded.

"Why do you underestimate so many people, Professor? Don't you think that people trust you? That they have known you for such a long time that they just understand?"

The smile hurt. "I would like to meet the man who has such friends. Friends who have known one for such a long time, that they look past the exterior and see the person behind it."

Hermione didn't know what to say at that, so she just sat there. Her hand was still lying on Snape's. She wondered if he noticed.

XXXX

Nearly there. Only a small part left. You can do that as well. You know you can. You are going to be a mess when you arrive. Hell, you are a mess already. It is not as if the students are going to notice. Should fit their notions nicely if the greasy git for once actually is greasy. Or bloody and sweating. Never mind. This is more important. Is it? Why is it more important? It is. You know it is. Would more harmony in the world ever be of any benefit to you? Nothing much is ever going to change. And you know it. Why bother? Perhaps it will give me one decent night's sleep. Perhaps it would be worth it after all. If you can sleep through the Gryffindors' horrid noise, that is.

XXXX

Remus Lupin came out of his rooms and walked in the direction of his classroom. He liked to have his things in order and the idea of being prepared did a lot to quite his mind and to ease his teaching. And he had the opportunity to think about Snape while occupied differently, which was a good thing. He was unable to think of anything else.

Something was very wrong with Severus. The man was wrestling with something important. But the memory of Snape's lips on his own, and the feeling of the hesitant arms around him filled him with such a wild joy, that everything else faded away.

As he was about walk up to his classroom, he saw a dark figure out of the corner of his eyes. Crumbled. Something off about it. Hard to say what. Slow. Moving towards him. Holding himself tightly. It hurt just to look at him. Severus.

For a moment Remus just stared at him. Then walked, ran towards him. He took him in his arms but startled when the other flinched. He neared him again. He reached out his hand slowly, not wishing to startle the other but wanting to express his concern. He slowly touched the other man's cheek. "Severus, what is the matter with you?"

The other man raised his eyes towards Remus with difficulty. He seemed only partially aware. On the point of collapse.

Remus gently put his arm around Severus' waist and assisted him. Severus seemed to wish to say something, but it was nearly unintelligible.

Remus gently kissed his temple and took him to the infirmary. He saw to it that he was taken good care of and went for Dumbledore's office.

Severus gradually became aware of his surroundings. Some of the deep ache in his bones and his back seemed to have faded. The urgency in his mind remained. He opened his eyes and looked around him. The infirmary. What had happened? He remembered that he had reached Hogwarts at last. He must have collapsed somewhere in the corridor and be taken to the infirmary. For some reason he could remember that someone had carried him. Someone strong. Hagrid? But there was a ghost of a memory in his mind of gentleness. Loving care and a kiss. He felt something prick in his eyes and he blinked. As if there was one soul in the castle who would hold him. Much less kiss him. It caused an ache in his chest somewhere so deep that he knew that he would cry if he thought about it any longer.

His train of thoughts was interrupted when Poppy Pomphrey appeared next to his bed. "I am very happy to find you conscious again, professor," she smiled warmly. "The broken bones have been healed. I will hand you a potion that will take care of all the irritated skin surface damage. You should presently feel much better."

She put a careful arm around Snape and saw to it that his hair was gently wiped out of his eyes before she gave him his potion. She had a special place in her heart for him after he had taken the trouble to go through he collection of herbs with her a few days earlier, and to give her an old and simple recipe for a soothing balm.

Snape had never received such a gentle treatment by her hands before. They had always held each other in a mutual, but distant and aloof respect. Somehow, however, he couldn't find it in his heart to make the dismissive, sarcastic remark he would otherwise have made. He was bone weary.

"I need to see Dumbledore."

"Of course. Remus had already gone to fetch him."

"Lupin?"

"Yes, right after he brought you in here. Dumbledore can be here any minute."

As she spoke, the headmaster entered the infirmary.

"Ah, Severus. I am sorry to find you like this. How do you feel?"

"Better," Severus just answered.

"I am relieved to hear it. The summons must have come very sudden, that you couldn't find the time to contact me?"

Snape just nodded. He couldn't spare the energy to say more than he absolutely must.

"The passage under the Womping Willow. You need to ward it. The attack will be from there. Pettigrew. Midnight. Another attack at the astronomy tower. Half an hour later. Then Gryffindor tower. Half an hour later. Malfoy. They want seventh year Slytherin to take care of Hufflepuf. Don't know that Malfoy won't obey his father. Same for the rest. Except Zabini. Attack at the great hall. Then the Ravenclaw wing. Last the infirmary. They will attack your office after the infirmary. Orders to kill everyone non pureblood and everybody else who resists."

Snape was silent. The sweat dripped from his front from the effort of speaking. Dumbledore wiped his face again.

"Tonight?"

Snape just nodded.

"Were you found out?"

Snape shook his head. "No. He was just displeased with me, because I failed to produce another rejuvenating potion. And he wanted to have me out of the way tonight."

"Did you give him the keys to the wards?"

Severus nodded again, exhausted by the effort. "The fake ones. As we agreed upon."

"Have you been obliviated? Been put under the Imperius curse?"

Severus shook his head, eyes closed. He understood the relevance of Dumbledore's questions, but it still hurt to see how much the headmaster seemed to take for granted. He didn't understand himself any more. He knew that he would have been uncomfortable if Dumbledore had shown any more personal interest. Still, it hurt that he went over it without any comment.

Lost as he was in his own contemplations, he missed the sharp look Dumbledore shot him. Yes, Severus had changed very much over the last month. Some of the old resistence and bitterness was broken. It hurt Dumbledore to think how much pain had been necessary to reach this. He cast a quick spell at the silent man. He had to be sure the he was under no form of magical force or restraint.

The spell showed nothing. Satisfied, Dumbledore searched the mind of his professor to see if there were any memories missing. He didn't want to risk the change that Severus had been obliviated. No gaps in the memories. But Dumbledore frowned at the endless torture in Snape's memory and the hours of agony on the way back to Hogwarts. How was that possible? It was evident that Snape had only been away a short time. He himself hadn't even noted his absence. It was true then that agony seems to take hours in the mind of the victim, while in reality it is only a few minutes. Bitter truth. Snape must be hiding a lot of pain under his cold exterior.

Dumbledore sighed deeply and left the infirmary, leaving Snape in charge of Poppy and Remus, who for some reason had followed him back to the infirmary.

Severus sank back in the temporary mercy of potion induced sleep. When he woke up again, Remus Lupin was sitting next to him. Severus looked at him amazed. Dumbledore must have forgotten to ask something. Why hadn't he bothered to wake him up?

Before he could ask something, Remus bent forward and gently wiped the sweat away from his braw. And kissd him.

Severus stared at him dumbstruck. Remus saw the look in his eyes and misunderstood. He bent over and kissed him again. "Are you feeling any better?"

Severus just stared at him. Remus gently stroked his temple. "I can only imagine what you must be going through, Severus," he quietly said. "I'm sorry that you had to go through all this. I was worried about you after what happened last night. But I am happy to be the one who found you. Don't worry about Sirius. He is safe. And rest assured. Voldemort is going to have an ugly surprise. We will have a fight tonight. But we will win. And after that we will have a time to find to ourselves again."

He rose to leave. Severus stared after him. He must have misheard. Their last encounter hadn't been that friendly. He couldn't fathom what had happened to Lupin.

'Wait," he cracked out.

Lupin turned around, with a slightly amused smile. "Yes?"

Severus just stared at him. He didn't know what to say or to ask. It seemed weird to ask why the werewolf was suddenly so much friendlier.

"I don't understand. Last night... Black..." His voice faded away.

Remus just stroked his temple again.

"We've been through that before, Severus. I don't have all the answers. I don't know what is going to happen. But..."

Here he bent and kissed Severus again. On the lips.

The first few seconds Severus didn't register anything more than just that. The werewolf was kissing him. Then he felt the warmth of hands holding his head gently. The slight scraping of hands on chin. The smell of woods and forest that went with it. A tongue that probed his mouth gently. Lips that nibbled his. A tongue that sought entrance, but didn't force its way in. Suddenly, Severus felt like a starved man in an oasis. His mind reeled. He slowly lifted his hands. Hesitantly allowed himself to touch the other man's shoulders and neck. Allowed himself to slide his fingers through the hair and stroked the templed with his thumbs. Arousal that came like a wave.

It was like a moment frozen in time.

After long moments Remus lifted his head and smiled at Severus. "I have to go. But we will win. Please live."

He stroked Severus temples once more and left.

Severus stared after him and then sank back into the pillows. Mind reeling. Thoughts chasing each other. Eyes pricking behind the lids. It had been far too long that he had longed for somebody's touch. Now that it had come, it had been to too much, too unexpected. Too little understood. He didn't know what had come over the werewolf. Would Remus come back? Or was it just an impulse under the influence of impending fight? In that case he would rather die. Or wouldn't he? Why did he always want to live, just to find out that life was worse than his worst nightmare? He dozed off, unaware that the tears were silently flowing down his cheeks. His thoughts uneasy, chased by haunting memories.


	11. Unmasked

**Title:** Astray

**By:** Melusina

**Category:** angst

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Notes:** Many thanks again to my beta Mairi. She checked this story for me. If you find any remaining blunders, blame me for them…

**Silverthreads and Femmeloki – **Thank you for your reviews… This is just for you…

**Part Eleven – Unmasked**

Michael had been sitting under the tree on the shore for a very long time and he felt slightly stiff when he finally rose. The sun had disappeared already and he had witnessed the glorious ending of a beautiful day. He had made a long walk along the lake and his peaceful surroundings had calmed him. He couldn't justify his actions for himself but he knew that he would end this once and for all. His place wasn't here. The memory would be his. That was all.

When he turned for the castle again, he noticed that there were fewer lights than usual. He frowned. He entered the main hall, but didn't find anybody. That was unusual, although the students should be in their dorms. Where was everybody? The sounds were somehow off, too. What could it be? He hesitated where to go, and finally decided that he would go up to Dumbledore. He would have to tell him anyway.

The stairs were empty as well. He reached Dumbledore's office and softly spoke the password. He had nearly reached the door to Dumbledore's office when he froze. That voice couldn't be human.

HHHHHHH

Later that night, Severus woke with a start. The map. Why hadn't he thought of it? He grabbed his wand and quickly performed the tempus spell to check the time. Half an hour before midnight. He had to contact Dumbledore. He must have been mental to forget about it.

Weakly, he summoned his clothes and got dressed, silently cursing his clumsy hands. He uncharacteristically stumbled through the door and took the shortest way to the headmaster's office. He encountered nobody. He thought that all the students must have been brought to the safety rooms in the dungeons. Just as well. He spoke the emergency password, but Dumbledore wasn't in his office. For a moment, Severus panicked. Then he grabbed a pinch of floo powder and threw it in the fire. "Headmaster," he blindly called.

"I'm here, Severus," came Dumbledore's voice immediately. Snape blindly followed the voice and found the headmaster in the great hall, with a few members of the order around him.

Severus stepped out of the fire place with painful grace and clutched his side with one arm. With the other he handed the headmaster the parchment that detailed which deatheater would attack at what different point. The dark lord himself would go for Dumbledore's office. Dumbledore studied it frowningly, then nodded quitely. He gave his orders and everbody took their place, not without giving Snape a wary glance.

"Come with me, Severus," Dumbledore just said and they went back to his office.

The attack, when it came, was smooth and swift. Dumbledore wanted it counteracted without Voldemort noticing that he was hindered. The final encounter would have to be in Dumbledore's office because the magic of the wards would bring Voldemort there. Dumbledore just hoped that the side attacks would be countered without causing too much loss.

Severus was standing next slightly aside in Dumbledore's office, next to the headmaster and Harry Potter. He felt as if the world moved outside of him.

Silently they waited. Sometimes a quick message was given through the floo network. Other than that they could just guess. They heard faint shouts. Whose was unclear. Once, they felt a slight shiver, as if the the castle was shaken in its fundaments. Sometimes a green flicker in the fire. Otherwise, there was only silence. Ghastly silence.

Finally they heard the soft sound of the gargoyle. It opened without an order from Dumbledore. They all froze. With Voldemort, there was a gush of something cold, something foul, something rotten. Severus shivered. Voldemorts red eyes were on Dumbledore.

"Not all the spying in the world can save you," he softly hissed. "I allowed this traitor to do his job, but it is over now. Surrender the castle. Perhaps I will let you live."

Dumbledore's quiet eyes were on Voldemort. "I will never do that, Tom, and you know that."

Voldemort just smiled an ice cold smile. "To save whom? The traitor? The half blood? The muggles? How can you be so sure that Severus didn't betray you?"

"I am sure of it," Dumbledore quietly said.

"Sure of a man who has lost his face?"

Suddenly a voice came from the door. "How can you be so sure that he has lost his face? Do you even know who he is?"

Everyone turned to the door. Severus stared. He thought that he was looking in a mirror. His mind was completely blank. He couldn't even start to think what this might mean.

Voldemort looked at the stranger incomprehendingly, apparently momentarily at a loss for words.

"I don't think you even know which of us is Severus. I don't think you have ever known him," the stranger calmly said. "And if you don't know that, what exactly do you know? How can you be sure of anything?"

Voldemort seemed to recover from his shock and made a wild movement with his wand in the stranger's direction. He never could pronounce a word, though. With a growl, Jack launched himself and bit the disgusting thing that seemed to threaten his master in the wand arm.

Then, "Sirius!" shouted Harry and seemed to awaken from his shock. "Don't you dare hurt him, you filth." And with that, he raised his wand and cast the killing curse.

Remus Lupin ran from the infirmary to Dumbledore's office. The attack under the Womping Willow and the Astronomy Tower had been countered. The wards on the Slytherin dungeons had been mostly effective. The fight for Ravenclaw had been bitter. The infirmary was preseved and functional. His nose told him that Voldemort had found his way to Dumbledore's office. Remus ran there, hoping wildly, his heart pounding in his chest.

He ran past the gargoyle and flew up the stairs. At the entrance of Dumbledore's room, he suddenly stood still as if he had run against a glass wall.

This just couldn't be. For a moment he felt as if he looked at a mirror and its counterpart. Harry Potter and Dumbledore were standing in the middle. At either side of them was Snape. Voldemort seemed to be no more than a dark heap on the ground. Remus stared from te one to the other, dumbstruck.

As they heard his entrance, both Snapes turned around. The eyes of the one were filled with remorse. He opened his hands and stretched them towards Remus. The eyes of the other were shocked, incomprehending, wandering from Remus to the other Snape. They filled with slow understanding, amazement and finally with lonely pain.

Dumbledore was the first to speak. He threw a bit of floo powder in the fire and connected to the infirmary to ask whether everything was alright. After that he turned to Michael with quiet certainty. "My name is Albus Dumbledore. I believe you have the advantage of me, sir. Would you give me your name?"

Michael looked at him with a mixture of uncertainty and resolution. "My name is Michael Carey. I tried to tell you before that I am not the one you took me for. But I did it half-heartedly. I had stumbled upon this place and really didn't wish to leave this place. Please forgive me."

With that he turned to Severus.

"Professor Snape. I am very honoured to I meet you in person. It is hard to find words to apologize for such a rude intrusion in your life and in your privacy. I stumbled upon this place suddenly and then I got engolfed in a life that was altogether too fascinating. I have dreamed of this place before, and suddenly it was as if my dreams had come alive. Still, I cannot find one reason to excuse what I have done."

Snape just stared at him. "You came upon Hogwarts? Where do you come from? What is your profession?"

"I am a veterinarian. I live by the village at the other side of the lake. I just took a walk around the lake and found myself here."

"How does a wizard come to be a muggle vet? Or aren't you?"

Michael smiled ruefully. "That would be because I am a muggle."

Everybody in the room now looked at him in shock. "You are a muggle? How is that possible? You have been teaching Severus' classes for weeks!"

"Good for me that professor Snape doesn't believe in wand magic."

Some of the tension in the room faded away.

"Professor Snape is never going to hear the end of it," Harry chuckled.

Remus frowned. "But you got in the company of Sirius? Did he find you out? Was he in trouble in dog shape?"

Michael turned towards him, slightly nervous. "In truth I have never understood it when you referred to my dog. What do you mean?"

The others in the room looked at each other. Harry's shoulders slacked a bit.

"Nothing. It is just… My godfather is an animagus. Able to change into a big black dog. We thought he was accompanying you."

Michael looked from Jack to the young man. He seemed unduly hurt my the statement. "I'm sorry to have hurt you," he simply said.

Harry just nodded, face turned away.

Michael turned to Dumbledore again and said quietly, "The last few weeks have been intense, sir. That I will admit. They have changed my life. I will be sorry to leave. But I will." He offered Snape his hand. "I hope that you will one day be able to forgive me, sir."

Severus hesitated. Then he shook the offered hand and turned to leave the room. He could stand it no more.

When he had left the room, the remaining people suddenly felt tired because of all the emotions they had gone through. Dumbledore nodded at Michael and said, "Please stay in Hogwarts as my guest at least for some time, sir."

Michael hesitated, but accepted the invitation. Dumbledore summoned a house elf and ordered him to find a room for Michael.

That done, he put his hand on Harry's shoulder and said, "Well done, child. Go to the infirmary to see whether they can use your help. I imagine you should find your godfather there."

Harry startled. "Sirius? What do you mean?"

Dumbledore didn't say anything. He just pushed him in the direction of the fire.

Remus and Michael were left standing in the office. Remus stared at Michael. He couldn't find anything to say. Remus felt a blush slowly creep up into his cheeks.

Michael smiled at him ruefully and hesitantly offered him his hand. "Please forgive me. I tried to tell you. I really did. But you didn't understand."

Remus took the proffered hand. It was the only thing he could to somehow maintain his face. Then he just nodded and left the room.

Michael followed the little house elf, who was happy to find a room for 'sir'.


	12. Reconciliation

**Title:** Astray

**By:** Melusina

**Category:** angst

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Notes:** Many thanks again to my beta Mairi. She checked this story for me. If you find any remaining blunders, blame me for them…

This chapter has been edited a bit because of the rating policy of ffnet. The unabridged story can be found on the SnapenLupin mailinglist. I think I will also publish it on aff sometime soon. If anybody wishes to have the complete text before it is published on aff, mail me. I'll send it to you. As far as this chapter goes – I'm sorry. The real stuff is better.

Part Twelve - Reconciliation 

Severus Snape was sitting on his own armchair in front of his own fire in his own rooms. There was no need for more assistance in the infirmary. There were copious amounts of healing potions available. He had all the reasons in the world to be content about the work he had done before he had left. Good thinking. Good planning. For once – a good job. He had heard the thanks expressed to Madame Pomprey in the infirmary, so he supposed it was all right.

He sighed. No reason why he shouldn't enjoy this small moment of peace before the world would crash down upon him once more.

Except that he couldn't. There was no reason to feel this uncomfortable in his own skin. Or this loneliness. He had never thought he could be this hurt when a student greeted him so friendly in the corridor. Must mean that Carey.

Six bloody weeks the man had been teaching here. He apparently had, from what Snape could gather, revolutionised the entire curriculum. Born out of necessity, of course, but still. And nobody had noticed. He had never even tried to imitate Snape. He wouldn't know how to. Yet, no one had noticed. Snape didn't care to remember how long he had lived between the walls of Hogwarts, and yet a double could impersonate him without any apparent trouble. Did nobody care enough about him to notice? Would they notice it if he died in here?

Well, yes, he thought they would. Not that they would care much. From what he had seen, his successor was vastly more popular then he ever had been. At least he had lost no time in befriending the remaining Marauder. Well, that of course just meant that Lupin must be even more stupid than he had thought. Or wasn't he? But had he just not cared enough to ask himself what had happened to Snape? No, that couldn't be it. Could after all have been a danger to the Order. Daft, then. Not his problem.

It had of course been obvious that something was wrong when Lupin… Still having trouble to think it, apparently. Pathetic.

Snape sank deeper in his chair and tried to ignore the aching feeling of loss and loneliness in his heart and the tears that were silently rolling down his cheeks.

There was a soft but insistent knock on the door. At first he ignored it. Then sighed and waved his hand to open it. Lupin.

Severus didn't turn his head. "What do you want?"

"Severus…"

"…"

"I've come to ask you to forgive me."

"Because you are the victim of your own stupidity?" Severus sneeringly asked. "I will, gladly. It does a person good to be right about something."

"No. Because it took a stranger to learn to know you. And that although I've know you these twenty years. I'm sorry. I truly am."

Severus just shrugged. "And now you think you know me? You never stop to amaze me."

"No," Remus just said. "But I've come to learn a bit more about you. And what I've seen made me wonder."

Severus kept his head turned away. It wouldn't do for Lupin to see his face. Some small amount of dignity left to keep. If only the man would leave quickly and leave Snape alone.

He didn't hear the sound of a closing door. He felt Lupins hand on his shoulder. Fingers that stroked his hair gently.

"It was a stranger who made me see what I have always known," Lupin softly said. "Like a long closed window suddenly opened. Offering a whole new perspective. It made me realise… You must have thought… But I'm not sorry that I was mistaken for a while. I'm happy to have been."

Something cold settled inside Snape's heart.

But the fingers continued to stroke his hair and his neck. "Now that I've seen the two of you, I could never be mistaken again," Remus softly said.

With that he gently turned Snape's head around and kissed him.

For a long moment, Snape allowed it. Then he pushed Lupin away. Hard.

"I'm sorry, he coldly said. "I'm not offering myself up for comparison. You'll have to be content with your lover."

"He's not my lover, Severus. He never was."

"It is none of my concern how you call your affairs, Lupin."

"He is like a charmed window to me, Severus. He made me see you differently. Or perhaps more like you are. And seeing you made me want to get close to you. To get to know you better. I am sorry at how much I hurt you, Severus. It made me realise how deeply you were hurt already."

With that he bent over again and kissed Severus again. He slid on the arm of Severus's chair. He captured his head with both hands and stroked the back of his head and his temples. He gently kissed the corners of his mouth. He stroked his lips, so gently, that Severus felt the tears prick behind his lashes again.

He kissed his lashes, the corners of his eyes, the line of his hair and his cheekbones. Then he returned to the mouth and gently requested entrance. After a moment, Severus allowed it and Lupin's tongue slipped into his mouth.

As Lupin deepened the kiss, Severus felt the answering emotion stir in his loins. He slowly brought up his hands. He stroked his sides gently, then moved his hands and explored the muscles of Lupjns back and neck. Lupin moaned and instinctively moved closer to Severus. Their chests touched. Lupin moved one hand down and gently touched Severus chest and his nipple. A shudder went through Severus. It had been a very long time ago that he had felt anything as arousing. His hands grew bolder, moved feverishly over Lupins chest and shoulders.

Finally they broke the kiss, both breathing heavily.

For one moment they stared at each other. Severus could feel the first hint of disbelief creep back into his mind. It couldn't be. It couldn't be real.

Then "To bed, Severus. We have both waited for this for far too long."

They silently rose and walked into Severus bedroom.

Severus could think no more. This felt far too unreal. He felt he couldn't wrap his mind around any of it. So he would just let it happen.

In the bedroom Remus turned so that he was facing Severus. He gently caught his face between his hands. He kissed him on the lips. He stroked the sides of Severus' face and neck, then set about removing the button of the collar and the shirt.

Severus didn't say anything. With some effort, he kept his hands by his sides and allowed the werewolf to do as he wanted. As Remus progressed, his hands touched Severus' skin. The silk of the shirt stroked his chest and his nipples. He had never thought that something so simple could be so arousing.

When the buttons were undone, Remus lifted his hands to frame Severus' face once more. Eyes closed, he remained standing there for a moment. Severus stood very still, silently enjoying the moment. Then he lifted his own slightly shaking hands to unbutton Remus' shirt. The skin of the werewolf was hot and trembled under his hands. He enjoyed the tiny sounds Remus made when his hands touched him. The shirt undone, Severus moved his hands to stroke the hypersensitive skin at Remus' sides. Remus shivered, but remained standing still. Severus enjoyed the reaction and then gently touched a nipple. Remus moaned and very nearly moved backwards. Severus raised his head and their eyes locked.

Then Remus grabbed Severus' fly with shaking hands and tried to undo it as quickly as possible. Severus helped him as well as he could, meanwhile trying to do the same to Remus. In a suddenly furious hurry they tried to remove all remaining clothing and landed on the bed in a graceless heap.

Remus landed on top of Severus. He slid one leg between Severus'. He had his hands on Severus' shoulders and pinned him on the bed. They kissed passionately. Severus felt the weight of Remus' hands on his shoulders and his kisses on his lips. Each hungry kiss somehow ignited the excitement he felt in his stomach even further, until he shivered with anticipation and delight. Remus' moist lips moved over his mouth, his cheeks, his nose, his eyelashes, his brows and back to his lips. Their kiss deepened. Severus felt that his skin began to glow. His body trembled and shook, and he was unable to refrain from moving against the hard body that pinned him down. He trailed his fingers along Remus' sides once more and loved it when Remus moaned in delight. He could feel the other's hard length against his leg. The anticipation of what was coming gave him butterflies in his stomach.

Remus moved his hands from Severus' shoulders to his sides, and looked him into the eye before he bent over. He kissed Severus' neck and the place where his neck met his shoulder. Severus moaned when Remus finally moved over to his nipples and alternately licked and bit them. He almost arched off the bed when Remus gave them one final, loving bite before moving over to Severus' lower belly. Remus trailed his tongue to the belly button and licked it briefly before he nuzzled and nibbled Severus' upper legs, carefully refraining from touching his straining cock.

Severus moaned loudly when Remus gently pushed his legs apart. He was in a mixture of conflicting emotions, stomach weak with delight and desire and arms itching to draw Remus against him once more to end this continuing torture. His hands clenched and unclenched. His fingers grabbed the sheets and nearly tore them in their frenzy.

Remus fully enjoyed the moans and sighes that were coming from Severus. He moved his lips from the inside of Severus' long legs down to the knees and finally bent down to lick and caress the feet and the toes. By the time he had gotten so far, Severus was shivering and trembling over his entire body, and he sighed with relief when Remus finally moved up. Remus licked and nibbled him and played with his balls until Severus came with a lingering sigh. Body molten in boneless delight. Remus moved up again and took his still slightly shaking body in his arms. He said nothing. It was not necessary.

For long moments Severus felt that he was held closely against Remus' body. It was a long time ago that he had felt so utterly relaxed. He enjoyed the feeling of Remus' arms around him, the hard chest against his back and the legs that were entwined with his.

Then he felt the other's hand on his cleft and the whispered words of a charm. His breathing stocked once more, and his heart began to beat more heavily again. His breathing hitched when he felt that Remus come up to him again He lay very still, unable to do more than wait breathlessly.

It felt good, so good to be so filled. He thrust his hips against Remus with increasing urgency and lost himself in moans completely. It had been far too long for both of them. They moved quicker and quicker, both fully abandoned in their delight. Far too soon, Remus shouted out his relief, soon followed by a hoarse shout from Severus and they both sank back in the sheets, covered with sweat.

Severus woke up slowly. Next to him he felt Remus' quiet breathing. He felt entirely ensconced by the warm sheets and a quiet calm came over him.


	13. Epilogue

**Title:** Astray

**By:** Melusina

**Category:** angst

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Notes:** Many thanks again to my beta Mairi. She checked this story for me. If you find any remaining blunders, blame me for them…

Part Thirteen – Epilogue 

Albus Dumbledore sat at the head table. He watched the students on their last day at Hogwarts before the summer holiday and thinking of the events that had shaped it. He thought that the future would be good. Severus seemed to have found some peace. Harry had had a very joyous reunion with his godfather. And the new Muggle studies teacher proved to be a real surprise to the staff. He smiled in himself and rose to give a short speech.

Hermione Granger and Michael Carey were walking along the lake once more, discussing dark arts, animal medicine and light and dark magic in detail.

"I would like to return to Hogwarts after summer to discuss it further with you, sir," Hermione said, a bit hesitatingly.

Michael smiled at her. "It would be a pleasure."


End file.
